Concupiscent Temptation
by GamerGalKat
Summary: Axelia Payton is a hacker seeking redemption for a crime she committed in her youth, and Los Santos is the city where it was to be found. However, an unexpected encounter with a man named Michael De Santa would cause her world to spiral into one of deception, greed, corruption, but most of all, lust. (Set in 2014, 1 year after the events of GTA5; FanFiction collab with LadyWillow)
1. The Hacker of Vice City

The City of Los Santos.

They say it's full of glamour, perfect year-round weather, and the only place where dreams can come true. A place where the education system, health care providers, and police task force are quintessence to living in harmonizing peace in this day and age. If someone told you these things, you'd be hard pressed not to believe them, wouldn't you? It does sound like an ideal place to live. Who wouldn't want to live in a place where everything is supposedly perfect?

But if you believe this, then you would not be prepared for the slap of reality that would soon find you.

The City of Los Santos is not glamorous, not so "perfect" as proclaimed, nor is it a place where dreams come true like in a child's fairytale. No. This city is the epitome of the filth that hides behind its shield of false perfection. Crime is at an all-time high, with gangsters driving up the streets just to shoot someone to be "initiated" into their gritty gang. Pollution has become one of the major environmental issues this city has faced. They claim the air is good here, but just beyond those skyscrapers is an entire section dedicated to that disgusting morning smog we see on our drive to work. And the corruption, oh the corruption! Leave it to the city officials, insurance companies, even the damn Los Santos Police Department to have their finger in the pie. They are willing to beat down just about anyone who stands in their way, if they were ever defied. If you're lucky to meet a cop free of the corruption, then you'd best hold onto them... or next time, that officer would be "non-existent" in their records.

So why even discuss a city such as this? What purpose does it serve in this story, if it truly is as terrible as they come?

Simple: this is the city where Axelia Payton decided to live out the remainder of her days. Flying from her hometown of Vice City, she came here to escape the intrusive past that endlessly haunts her, in hopes to do some semblance of good before dropping out of this gig forever. It was going to be her last job, the one that'll be the magnanimity of her true being. But what skill did she have that no one else seemed to carry?

Another easy answer: she can go in places certain individuals cannot, remaining unnoticed and irrelevant while unbeknownst to the schmucks that she holds all the cards. And not only that, but she is one of the most skillful hackers in America. But what's a hacker from Vice City doing here in Los Santos? Why exchange one beachside city for another?

As her plane touches down at Los Santos International Airport, we will delve deeply into her tale of deception, greed, and corruption, but most of all...

A temptation of an amorous rendezvous with a man she was never suppose to meet.

* * *

The wind whipped wildly outside the arrival doors of the Los Santos International Airport, filled with people from all walks of life chatting away on the terminal. This was the City of Los Santos, and it was where Axelia Payton finally lands. She pushes the door opened with her forearm, her boots thudding loudly as she makes her way down the small steps and right to the sidewalk. She hadn't been here in the city before, but already she could tell she was going to hate this place. Sure she exchanged one beach for another, but it was no Vice City. At least she knew how the people there were. She was one of them. Her phone suddenly goes off in her pocket, a sound that took her completely off-guard. She never received messages after she left home the first time all those years ago. Axelia was considered the black sheep in her family, despite being anything but kind and respectful to anyone she met. The first and last time she heard anything from her family was to let her know her father had past away. But the messages she were to receive today were far different than somber knowledge. As she retrieved the message, it revealed nothing more than an address. She didn't know where it was, but something told her if she went there, it would make sense. She looked at the sender's name, only to see that it was a private number. She could only assume it belonged to _him_. As she slipped her phone back in her pocket, she thought about the man who could've sent it to her.

In the City of Los Santos, there is a group of people that are considered vigilantes, although their heroic deeds go unrewarded. In the public eye, they're suppose to be a menace to society, leeches who want nothing more than the world to crumble into ruin. But that's a misconception fed to the public to keep them ignorant to the truth. In reality, these vigilante hackers were actually cracking down on the scams and deception the bigwig corporations were feeding the innocent people. Within the last year, they've already shut down many different corporations around the entire world, and their latest project is none other than the most corrupt city in America - Los Santos. And the one who led the charge was a mysterious figure known only as The Honey Badger.  
Axelia had heard about the Honey Badger all her life. Most believed him to be a myth, or a boogeyman hackers would tell one another before they do some wicked scheme. Others revere him as a legend, a saint who uses his skills for the betterment of humanity. Axelia didn't know if she really believed that there was such a person out there with that amount of power. It seemed entirely unlikely. That is, if she hadn't returned to Vice City on that dreary day to bury her father.

She tucked her phone back into her pocket, looking out for a cab to finally roll up to the curb. She thought about what this address could be, and the only thing that came to mind was a safe house. The Honey Badger seemed ready to accommodate all who chose to work under him, even if those accommodations were not the best. Still, at least he looked out for his people. Axelia's keen eye spots a cab in the distance, her instinct to step a foot into traffic and flag the driver down being no more than a force of habit right now. Even down to her whistling at the driver, which - truth be told - wasn't really suppose to work for her, but that's a habit, too. It seemed the five years she had spent in Liberty City hailing cabs had done her some good, though. As the driver slowed to a stop, she approached and got into the back passenger side of the vehicle, being sure to retrieve her phone for the address before settling in. Once she told the driver where she wanted to go, they were on their way, driving off from the airport towards the city of Los Santos. She looked out the window, her mind wondering as the radio began to fill the car with a late 80s song; _Heartbeat_. She hummed along with the tune subconsciously as she thought about her task, about what the Honey Badger wants from her. He had came to her that day in person, told her he needed her. Axelia didn't believe him, at first. With everything that happened in her life, she felt she was no more than a waste of space. Why would he need her of all people? But it became apparent that he knew everything about her, and promised her a chance at the one thing she so desperately wanted: Redemption.

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket, a text message received from some other unknown number.

_Welcome to Los Santos, Axel. -HB-_

_'H__B? Honey Badger?'_ she thought, staring at the message on her phone. It seemed that the Honey Badger was well-connected to everyone, even down to their private numbers. Was he spying on her? Did he hack her phone to track her location? The driver had stopped at a red light, his voice snapping her back to reality. "Hey _chica_. We're here." She looked up from the phone in her hand, shifting in her seat to see the building right across the street from the stoplight. The words Dream Tower were written on the side, in English and what she could only assume was an Asian language. She couldn't tell which one it was. The driver was able to pull her up to the sidewalk across the street from the apartment building, the seemingly long car ride finally over at long last. As she stepped out, the cab driver called out, "Hey! This ain't a charity, bud. Pay up!" Axelia was confused. Why would he assume she wasn't going to pay? "I am. One sec," she replied, pulling her wallet out as she looked at the charge. It wasn't too bad, and she paid the man his due. "Thanks. Next time, pay up before gettin' out," the cab driver warned her. "Otherwise, they'll think you're gonna run off without payin' 'em." "I'll keep that in mind," she answered, watching the driver zoom away toward the city. Axelia stood there a moment before turning her attention towards the apartment building, a long-winded sigh leaving her as she ran across the street. This place was to be her home from now on. It didn't look like much on the outside, but she did hope that the inside was better. She took her phone out to check the time. 2:04pm. Sounds about right. She arrived to the city a mere two hours ago by plane, and now she's here at her new home. She's beginning to wonder if all of this was worth it.

Upon entering, an older man with greying hair sat at the counter, nearly dozing off while some Asian drama was playing in the background. He coughed horribly all of a sudden, groaning as he stretched. "This damn cold!" He looked up and noticed Axelia, looking her over carefully before resituating in his chair. "Who are you? New customer? We have no vacancies," he replied in a grouchy voice, suddenly coughing again. Axelia approached him, taking her phone out again. "Actually, I already have a place here. Apartment 15? Someone had already purchased it for me." The man squinted at her, looking her up and down again before noticing her tattoo on her stomach. "Ooh. _You're_ the tattoo girl. With the flower!" Axelia looked down at her tattoo. "It's a hibiscus," she told him, but he didn't hear her. "Yeah, there was some weird talkin' scrawny guy in glasses who spoke about you. Said you'd be here by the end of the week. Looks like you're early!" She was curious as to what he meant, but the man turned and pulled a set of keys off the wall, turning back and handing them to her. "This key's for your apartment door," he shows the bronze key, and then holds up a silver key; "and this one's for the garage. You got a car?"  
Axelia shakes her head, although she did own one. A motorcycle, a customized Dinka Akuma. It was one of her most prized possessions. She currently had it shipping here by request to the Honey Badger, but was told it would take some time to get it here. She didn't mind the wait, but definitely missed her favorite bike. "Well, if you do, you can park it in the basement. Laundry room is also down there, and is coin operated. No pets allowed. Smoking's allowed, but no serious drugs. No guns, either. This ain't a gang clubhouse. And keep the noise to a minimum after eight o'clock. Parents with their kids, y'know?" Axelia nodded, about to take the keys until the landlord snatched them away from her. He coughed violently into his elbow before sniffling and continuing. "Rent's due within the first five days of every month, and it can't be late. Luckily, your pals paid the next two months in advance, but still. Utility is included in the rent, so when you pay the rent, that extra charge pays that." He holds the keys out to her, but before dropping them into her hands, he gives her one last look over. "I've been told you're a quiet one by those friends of yours. Keep to yourself mostly. I hope they weren't lying..." Axelia smiled wearily, looking the landlord in the eye. "I'm good for it."

The man waited another moment before dropping the keys in her hand, pointing over at the elevator. "Apartment 15's on the third floor, at the end of the hall on the right. You'll know it when you see it." She simply nodded before walking off towards the elevator, clicking the panel to call it. The doors opened immediately, and she entered, clicking the panel to the 3rd floor. She leaned back against the elevator, a quiet sigh leaving her as it's music chimed on. It has been a long day. A shower sounded nice, and a hot meal. She wondered if everything she needed was in this apartment. The Honey Badger explained that he would take care of her things, that his team would move everything she needed and set it all up for her. Does this also mean her personal items were moved in there, too? She shifted her weight. Surely they didn't snoop in her things, right? They may be a group of hackers - superb ones, at that. Still, it bothered her to even imagine someone looking through her personal belongings.

* * *

She had this key inserted in the lock for some time, but couldn't seem to open it. Not because the handle was stuck or broken. The door was fine in every way. Axelia was just frozen in place. She had moved from place to place in hopes that she could finally find somewhere to call home. But everywhere she went, it eventually brought despair to her. She had considered backing out on this, on leaving Los Santos and living in that desert in the middle of nowhere again. She thought about her time in Liberty City, about the first man she ever loved. Roger was her whole world, and he loved her just as equally in return. But even with that, he still left her because she couldn't give him the one thing he desperately wanted. It crushed her, knowing she was the reason for their dream not coming true. Would she also be the reason for this plan to fail? So much seemed to be riding on her to succeed.

She shook the thoughts out of her mind and entered the apartment at last, being mindful to retrieve her key afterwards. At first glance, it didn't seem so bad. In fact, entering this place brought a sense of calm to her. The walls were filled with her old movie posters, as well as some recent ones she acquired. There were also newer posters she didn't own hanging up at the entrance of her apartment. A gift from the other hackers who set up her home, perhaps? She came around the small wall and saw the living room, her huge, L-shaped white couch settled perfectly in its center. The coffee table sat before it neatly, with magazines and tissues resting perfectly in place. Axelia would take another step forward and notice her bookshelf at last, filled with all her books she had accumulated over her life. It was nicely decorated, too, with small plants and bookends. There seemed to be duplicates of some of these books. Probably extras if she ever had guests. She turned to see her television, a large one mounted to the wall. That one was definitely not hers. Another gift, perhaps? She wasn't complaining. It would be nice to watch her favorite classics on a bigger TV anyhow! She can already see how good _Rum Runner_ would look on there. The entire entertainment center looked decked out with all sorts of speakers, some video games, controllers and guides, music CDs and magazines. There were even old computer towers with an equally old keyboard and mouse lying around on it. She supposed it would be for her to tinker with if she ever got bored.  
A peek to her left revealed her tiny, green kitchen, complete with an small island, fridge, sink, and oven. She took off her coat and folded it onto the island's countertop, opening the cupboards and checking everything out. Her old bread box, salt and pepper shakers, and all her glassware was put away neatly, as well as other kitchen appliances that she didn't realize she owned. Or maybe she didn't own them, and they were added like some of these other items were. She didn't care. It was functional, at least. She opened the fridge to find beer, water, some soda, and so many different types of food. There was even some wrapped meatloaf in there, with... "A note?" She pulled the note off the wrapped food, observing it before finally reading.

_Here's a little home welcoming gift. Made it myself! Hope we get to work together sometime. -GH0ST_

"Ghost... I've heard of 'em," Axelia whispered to herself, looking back at the meatloaf. It did look very appetizing. "Think I'll heat it up after my shower." She smiled softly to herself before shutting the fridge door, placing the note on her jacket. It was a very cute looking note, with an actual picture of a ghost next to the name. She wasn't sure if the drawing was intentional, but it did make her smile a bit. She looked over her kitchen island and saw a simple little table, decorated with a few candles, and a bowl of oranges. Next to that was a tall shelf with her boxes of photos and other miscellaneous things. She stared at the three boxes full of photos, a doleful look in her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to look through those photographs. They were all of her past, of her first and only marriage. She wanted to leave that old life behind. If she's going to live in Los Santos, she was going to make the best of it.

She returned to the tiny hall where her front door was and went into the next room, immediately recognizing that it was her bedroom. Her blue sheets and covers, her dresser and wardrobe, everything she had in her old bedroom in Vice City was here, even down to her wicker woven trunk she used to store her least favorite clothes. She chuckled as she observed the room, checking the drawers and wardrobe to see her clothes all in order. To see how well put together the room was, how cared for and delicately her things were handled was a good sign. They respected her belongings, even accommodating her with other things she didn't own and they gave her. There was another door on the opposite side of the room, and as she approached it to peer inside, a dry chuckle left her throat. "Wow. A bathroom the size of a prison cell... I dig it." It truly was extremely tiny, but she couldn't complain as it had the essentials to serve its purpose. At least this one has a functional shower. The shower in the old house she use to reside in, back in the desert, was very temperamental. It only worked when it wanted to!

She flopped on her bed lazily, noting the fresh linen scent on her sheets as she curled up a moment. This was not as bad as she anticipated. It was better, in fact. The members of this group have helped her feel right at home, accommodating her with clean sheets, fresh fruits, other food and drinks, even some extra flair to her new home, right down to the plants, even. She felt a smile grow on her lips as she sighed warmly, finally removing her fingerless gloves off her hands.

"Yeah. This is starting to feel a little like home. Just a little bit."

* * *

_"H__ey daddy what happened to you and me? __I've heard sorry before, __Get-up get-out..."_

Axelia was sitting casually on the couch, the television blaring a contestant singing a song on _Fame Or Shame_. She really wasn't into the show, but she was bored and had nothing better to do. She took a bite out of the reheated meatloaf, savoring the taste as she chewed it slowly. Ghost really knew had to cook a meatloaf. She hoped to try it freshly cooked one day. She folded her legs under herself, the plate settled in her lap as she watched this nervously sweet, blonde-headed girl finish up her song. The poor girl's dancing was a bit terrible, but she certainly was trying her heart out. She did seem unchoreographed, and it showed. However, Axelia thought it was sweet this girl was given a chance, albeit a slim one, on the show. And the girl had a pretty singing voice, in her opinion. The judges seemed uninterested in her, however. Although Lazlow looked enamored by her strangely enough. Well, he did seem a bit like a sleaze ball to her, but what can she say? Most celebrities in this city were.

"_Yeah! That was fantastic!" _Lazlow shouted on the television. Axelia groaned, reaching for her soda can on the coffee table. She got the feeling the man was just trying to feel up on the poor girl, as he always does with young, up and coming female stars. She smacked her lips after taking a sip of her soda, settling it back down on the table before returning her attention to the television. Lazlow was telling the judges that if they voted wrong on this, it could be the end of a lot of promising careers. Axelia took another bite of the meatloaf on her lap. Sadly, she had this feeling that the judges weren't going to pick this poor girl. The girl was barely known to them, and because of how unchoreographed she was, it was an instant loss in their books. It was too bad really. She had a very nice singing voice, and for someone who wrote her own song, it wasn't half bad. As Axelia took a napkin to wipe her mouth, Lazlow murmured something quickly in his microphone, right before the commercial break. _"Seriously, guys. Vote the right way 'cause a maniac's gonna fucking kill me."_ She arched her trimmed brow. What was this about some maniac? What did he mean, vote the right way? For this girl? Now Axelia was curious as a kitten, waiting patiently for the commercials to go through so she could see what happens next on the show.  
As the show returned, they went through the list of contestants again, with the last one being of the blonde-headed girl, Tracey De Santa. The judges truly didn't know this girl at all, and it seemed unfortunate. The girl had potential with that voice of hers. As she guessed, however, the judges didn't vote for her, and instead voted for some monkeys. Axelia groaned at the decision, as it was quite vulgar, but once again, what can she say? Vice City was just as bad in some cases. But how would Lazlow react? This was why she kept watching the show for this long in the first place. After a moment, as expected, Lazlow went crazy when the final decision was made. He talked about how Tracey had sang her heart out, and how she was going to be a star. Then, after some insults were thrown at Lazlow, he officially physically attacked Hugh, insulting him back. Axelia was now out of her seat, standing a little bit closer to the television to watch the fight. But the show was cut short, and ended before she could see what happened next, with Anita Mendoza talking about next season's episode. She cursed under her breath, grabbed the remote to click a button, and bring up the information for the episode she just watch. "Huh. This was last year's finale." This intrigued her even more. Who could cause a man to act so irrationally on television because some girl didn't get the final votes? Lazlow was obviously scared to pieces, practically begging that this girl be deemed the winner. But as Axelia began to really pounder on this, her cell phone went off, vibrating loudly on the wooden coffee table. Turning off the television, she put down the remote and retrieved her phone, unlocking it to read a newly received text message.

_Axel, we need to talk. Go find a payphone in the city. I'll contact you with the details. -HB-_

"Honey Badger!" she whispered harshly to herself, immediately dashing off to grab her boots out of her room. This was it. The big assignment! Now she'll finally learn what her task in this city is.

* * *

The city certainly had a stench to it, one that Axelia didn't much care for. Finding a payphone nearby was a very daunting task, as well, causing the woman to hate the distance she had to travel to find one. Why couldn't the Honey Badger just send her an encrypted email with a video file? Did he truly want to talk to her? She was unsure of whatever his reasoning could've been, although he could've made this easier by simply calling her cell phone. Still, the man had his reasons for doing this... whatever they were.

She would eventually find a payphone closer to Downtown LS, near some office buildings of some sort. She was relieved to have found one, but how was she to know he'll call this one? She waited diligently beside the now barely used, but completely vandalized phone booths, noting how abused and run down it was on the inside of one. Even the phonebook was barely held together on the chain it dangled from. She took her phone out to check the time. "It's 4:31. When is he going to call?" This was worrisome. Why would he want her to go to any random payphone in the street? People passing by gave her confusing looks, wondering why she's standing around waiting instead of using the phone. Either that, or wondering why she had a cell phone in her hand, standing _next_ to a payphone. It was a bit irritating, the staring. But none of those glances mattered in that instance, as the phone finally did ring, causing Axelia to pick it up immediately. She slowly held it to her ear, listening quietly to whoever's voice would come out the other end.

"It has been a while, Axel."

It was him. It was distorted and garbled heavily, possibly thanks to a multitude of voice modules, but there was no doubt in her mind. This was none other than the Honey Badger, himself.

"Listen carefully to what I'm about to say. Memorize it."

She could hear him shifting some papers around, then clicking on a keyboard before continuing. "Augury Insurance is blackmailing their customers with ridiculous interest rates. We caught wind of their little scheme after your return to Vice City." Axelia bit her lip. So they've been watching her for a while, as well as this insurance company. Was this place her task? Just hearing the word blackmail seemed to suggest so. "We want you to infiltrate as an employee and plant a bug in their systems. It will be a difficult task, to be sure. But once you're inside, we will know _everything_ about them. To expose their dirty secrets officially, and put an end to them." The way he said it seemed alarming. Axelia wasn't sure if he intends to do harm to the employees, but something told her that that's not this group's nature. Still, his voice definitely terrified her. It was not pleasant in any way.  
"You are the only one who can do this, Axel," she heard him say over the phone. She tightens her grip on it, her downcast eyes deep in thought. She's the only one, was she? Because she wanted redemption? Helping the innocent people of Los Santos who were victims of this insurance company's blackmail would be her redemption, wouldn't it? It was not difficult to process this. It was a simple task, one she could finish with exceptional ease. This sounded like it could be a cakewalk. "Now..." His voice was deeper than before. She could tell he was preparing himself for her answer, because a question was about to be asked. She felt it in her bones. And as expected, he continued, asking;

"Do you accept this assignment?"

Axelia closed her eyes, sighing softly as she decided to process all that was told to her. Augury Insurance, a big name corporation that was in the business of blackmailing their costumers to pay more than they were capable of paying. It was wrong to extort that amount of money out of their pockets, to force them to abide by their company ruling to give it up. It was fraudulence, plain and simple. But seeing as they live in one of the most corrupt cities in America, these poor souls stood no chance against these powerful companies. She thought about her own past, about her youth and that one hacking job she had that caused her to try and find ways to redeem herself. She could never forget it, all those innocent people. She could not allow that incident to repeat itself.

"Yes."

Axelia gripped the phone tightly in her hand, opening her eyes once again as she answers the Honey Badger's question. She could hear him make some sort of sound on the other end. Was he holding his breath, hoping to hear her say yes? It was as if she unknowingly accepted some marriage proposal of his. Maybe, in a way, she did. "Very good," she finally heard his garbled voice reply. "Keep your phone close tonight. You will receive a package in the morning before heading out to your next objective. Go home and get some rest, for now. Badger, logging out." She made an affirmative sound into the phone as the line suddenly disconnects, leaving a dial tone and an automated voice requesting for the user to hang up and try again. Axelia hung it up with a sigh, her mind reeling as she finally turns to walk away. The Honey Badger had been planning this gig the entire time, hadn't he? To contact her and have her be the one to do all of this? He knew this would be the prefect job for her, way before he came to her at the cemetery in Vice City. She knew almost next to nothing about this group of hackers, except for the ghost stories about the mythical Honey Badger, and now she's a part of them.

She's able to hail a cab to depart from this place, requesting the driver to take her to the beach. She wanted to feel the sand under her feet before going back to the apartment, to determine if the sand here felt the same as her hometown. She would gaze out the window as he drove through the traffic, her mind on the Honey Badger once again. Why does he do all this? What satisfaction does he gain from taking down these corrupted bigwig corporations? Was he a victim like the others, or was this something he wanted to do in his spare time? It made no sense to her. Then again, did anything in this life make sense? She thought about the other people that could be working underneath him. What were they hoping to accomplish, working with a man like the Honey Badger? Did he promised them wealth, or fame? Were they in search of redemption, too, like she was? Or perhaps they just wanted something to do? How many people were working for the Honey Badger, anyway? There were just way too many questions Axelia had that would remain unanswered for the time being. For now, she would simply have to trust him.

"We're here," the cab driver called back to her, taking her out of her trance. She murmured thanks as she mindfully paid him first, getting out of the vehicle to see the sun setting over the ocean. It was extremely beautiful, the way the water looked on fire and sparkled in the setting sun. She made her way down to the beach, stopping right at the tip of the sand to remove her boots. She had been waiting all day for this, to finally feel this sand beneath her feet and determine if it felt the same as the sand in Vice City. With her boots in hand, she elegantly stepped into the sand, pressing her toes into it deeply before walking upon it. It felt a bit lighter than the sand in Vice City, softer than she thought it would feel, too. It wasn't a terrible feeling, but she could feel the difference. She bit the inside of her cheek, wiggling her toes in the sand. She wasn't disappointed, but she hoped... she wasn't sure what she had hoped. It may look like home, the sunset reminding her of how pretty the ocean can be, but the sand didn't _feel_ like the sand back home. It's like eating your favorite meal prepared by someone you love. It tastes so delicious and savory that you can never forget it so long as you shall live. Then, when someone else makes that exact same favorite meal, you notice that there's something ever so slightly different about it. None of the ingredients changed, nor the recipe to prepare it, but you can still taste that something isn't quite the same as the way the person you loved made it.

A football suddenly lands beside Axelia, kicking a little bit of sand up her ankle. She turned to see a young man with frizzy-looking red hair approach her, apologizing for the ball. He had lots of tattoos on his body, the most notable one being on his neck which read "entitled". His body appeared to be quite flabby, but he seemed fit, like he had been working out a lot recently or within the past year. His face was also leaner compared to the rest of him, but seemed to be catching up to look more lean from the looks of it. "My asshole dad has, like, this killer arm," he suddenly said as he stood back up, playfully flipping the football in his hands. "Again, sorry about that!" She smiled, trying to be friendly. "It's fine." She truly wasn't bothered by it, as she was about to prepare to head home anyway. She peered over at a silhouette of a man in the distance shouting a name, possibly this young man's aforementioned father, who called out to him. "That your dad?" she asked, squinting at the figure. It was hard to make them out from here, but it was apparent that they were older, their sunglasses blocking their face as their shorts, and opened shirt gently moved in the ocean breeze. "Yeah. I better head back before he has an aneurysm or something," the man joked, turning to walk away. Axelia was impressed by the distance this man's father had thrown the football. He could've been a football player in high school, or had played professionally at one point, or maybe still did. She fixed her bangs as the wind whipped through her hair, looking over at the departing younger man. "Hey," she called, causing him to stop in his tracks. "Could you tell him, your dad, that he's got one hell of a throw? That distance is impressive." The man seemed confused at first, but smiled smugly, trying to act flirty towards her. "Totally... if I had your number." She groaned quietly at the terrible attempt of a pickup line, putting a hand on her hip. "I'm thirty-three, son. I'm not in the business to date anyone, let alone boys." "Some older women are hot," he argued, but added quickly; "_B__ut_ you're kinda talking like my dad does, which is weird, so I'm good." He was laughing as he put his hand up defensively, playing this interaction off as a joke entirely. "I'll tell him what you said, though. Sorry again, lady!" He finally began his jog back to his father, the older man waving his hand as he watched his son return. He had patted the young man on the shoulder before receiving the ball, looking over in Axelia's direction as his son pointed her out to him. She looked away, sighing as she took in one last look at the sunset before beginning her trek back to the city. She needed to get back now. The sun was sinking further into the sea, and she needed the sleep before tomorrow. She peered over at the father and his son, watching them for a moment as they walked away with arms around one another. She remembered how her father and her use to walk on the beach together, before racing back to their beachside home to see who was the fastest. She missed those days.

As she glances back at the sunset one more time, Axelia can't help but feel slightly overwhelmed with the events of today. She was sure that, with time, she would come to think of Los Santos as home. But for now, she would see Los Santos as her place of work. Augury Insurance was to be her biggest task to tackle. She felt ready for it. The question was: Was she truly prepared for what was to come?

* * *

She sat on the train as it trembled and rocked rhythmically, the sounds of the people on it chattering away combined with the tram's rattling created the typical orchestra that would paint the cityscape. Axelia had awoken early this cloudy morning, a text message being what greeted her as she got herself going. A package had arrived right outside her apartment door, just as the Honey Badger said it would. The text message explained that Axelia was to take the items from the box before she left, as they were essential for her next task. The package contained only three, very simple items: a tram ticket from Little Seoul Station to Burton Station, a red earpiece, and a pair of red and black Vixen modeled glasses. She wasn't sure what the glasses were for, but the earpiece and ticket were obvious. She had the earpiece already attached to her ear when she used the ticket at the station, while the glasses stayed in their eyeglass case. She was actually looking at them as she sat on the tram, the case opened with the glasses glistening off the overhead light in the tram car. Someone on the same tram even complimented them, saying they looked very cute. It only made Axelia more curious as to what its purpose is. Were they only for show, to help her with her disguise for Augury? She shook her head as she closes the case, holding it tightly in her hand. No way these glasses were just for show. There had to be another reason for them. She could sense it.

The tram was coming to a stop as the voice announced that they were at Burton Station, the woman reacting as quickly as a child would when they are told that they're going out for ice cream. This transit station was barely used by the populace of Los Santos, most preferring the heavy, bumper to bumper traffic to the simple train station. Axelia wasn't complaining, however. There was barely any people here, which meant that there were less eyes staring at her. As she took the stairs next to the railways, just about out of the station entirely, she suddenly heard the earpiece come to life. It startled her a little, stopping the woman in her tracks as she spoke into the earpiece. There was no response. She gently spoke into it again, and once again, there was no response. Until a voice suddenly came booming in, playful and loud; "Testin', testin', one-two-three! All bound for Morningtown, many miles away!" The male voice had a very thick accent, one that Axelia couldn't place. He continued singing the unknown song into her ear, going crazy with the depth of his voice and playfully changing the tempo every few notes. She had a feeling that he didn't notice her. Who was this guy, anyway? "Hello..?" she responded to the singing man, who stopped immediately. She wasn't sure if his voice had cut out entirely, or if this was a glitch with the earpiece, but after a moment, all her worries were put aside. "Ah! You heard all that, didn't ya, bruv?" What kind of an accent was this? Australian? "Yeah. It startled me a bit," she admitted, putting a finger to her ear to keep the device in place. The voice on the other end was quiet a moment, as if they were processing something. "Are you _really _Axel? I thought you were some bloke, based on that there ol' name of yours." She chuckled, looking around to make sure no one was listening in as she spoke to the man. "Yeah. I get that a lot."

Axelia chose the hacker handle "Axel" because it sounded manly, which protected her identity for many years. She preferred to have a misleading name, than one that sounded like it would actually make her stand out like a sore thumb. And it worked a little in her favor, as it almost sounded like a part of her name, which was not intentional, but appreciated. Even if Axelia was out of the hacking scene for a short time, she was well known through certain circuits, her most famous hack being one from Liberty City. This was before she met her now ex-husband, when she wanted to do some good for a group of people who hired her for genuine help. She was grateful to them, as they did eventually introduce her to Roger. But this was now a bitter memory when Axelia thought about it.

"Well then... let's start this ditty over," the voice on the earpiece replied, gently clearing their throat. "G'day, sheila! I'm Wendigo. I'll be your guide today, so to speak." Wendigo? The name seemed misleading by the sheer sound of this man's voice. He seemed too cheerful to name himself after a flesh-eating monster. Then again, her codename was just as misleading, seeing as it sounded manly. "You almost there, sheila?" She let out a small sigh as she finally proceeded up the stairs, replying back; "Yeah. Almost." "Oh good on ya!" She could not understand this man's enthusiasm, even if it did seem nice to meet a fellow hacker who was as jovial as this one. "Badger said you would be perfect for this job. Bloody oath he did!" Axelia chuckled softly to herself, barely understanding this man's speech as she neared the top of the stairs. "I'm sure he was." The stairs led right to the start of Rockford Hills Plaza, a chain of clothing and jewelry stores lining the streets behind her, with the plaza directly to her left. But the only building that mattered to her was the one directly in front of her, right across the street: Augury Insurance.  
"OK, sheila," she heard Wendigo's cheery voice become serious, realizing that now was a good time to get down to business. "Here's some info on Augury. They herd them innocent folk in with promises that their families will be insured in case of some fatal crash, yeah?" She made an affirmative sound as she stood next to the crosswalk, waiting for the signal light to change so she could cross. "Except," Wendigo continued; "when them folk get into a lil' fender bender, their interest rates suddenly sky-rocket! I mean, crikey! Didn't their parents teach them to respect the elderly?" As Axelia began her way across the first part of the street, she scoffed at the description of the crime that Augury was getting themselves into. It was unbelievable that they were doing this to people, forcing the customer to pay them a huge amount of cash when something as tiny as a bump happens. She was already starting to hate the way this company was doing their customers dirty, a scowl already creeping upon her features. "That's powerful companies for you," she scoffs angrily, watching out for an oncoming car. "Well I bloody don't like it, sheila." That was easily agreeable. She was none too happy with this knowledge either. "My grandmama would spat a dummy and beat 'em with her ol' cane if she found out about this!" She couldn't help but chuckle at Wendigo's sudden outburst. Something told her that he was a jokester, that he tries to help liven up the situation if possible. She shook her head, clearing her throat quietly. "She sounds lovely," she teased, crossing the second part of the street at last. She could hear the Australian scoff in her ear, possibly shaking his head on the other end at her. "You don't know my grandmama, Axel." She let out a dry chuckle in response, stepping back on the curb as the car waiting on her zoomed past quickly.

Axelia stood there on that curb as her eyes made contact with the Augury building, it's tall, sleek oval design unique to the rest of the buildings on this street. The bright blue neon sign looked as pristine as the smoothed rock walkway that surrounded it, the black outline of the building selling that sleek look that the company seemed to pride themselves with. "There it is," Wendigo suddenly replied, as if he could see that she was looking at the building. "Yeah. I saw it from the transit station I just left from," she replied, crossing her arms as her eyes squinted to observe the occupants of the building leave. It was a bunch of women in suits with skirts, giggling like a bunch of school girls gossiping about something ridiculous. She heard the Australian man groan in her ear, causing her to imagine that he was shaking his head once again. "So full of 'emselves, eh? What I wouldn't do to give them blokes the what-for!" Axelia could hear the anger in his voice. She could sympathize with him, as seeing those female employees across the street laugh about something still was causing her blood to boil. What was so funny that made them giggle like a bunch of children? Did they close a deal recently that cost someone millions for a tiny accident? She shook her head, looking away from the women. This was only her second day in Los Santos and she was beginning to hate being in the city again. All she could think about was going back to Vice City now, to get away from this place. The air was already making her feel ill with displeasure.  
The kind voice of Wendigo snapped her back to reality, who seemed to have taken a moment to breathe before speaking. "You got the glasses we sent ya?" She took the eyeglass case out of her pocket. "Yeah, but..." She still didn't understand. Why were these glasses so important? There was nothing about their design to suggest that they were special in any way. Expensive, maybe, but nothing more. "They special, y'see?" Wendigo began, his attitude seemingly more cheerful as he begins to explain. "I designed 'em meself using that there Vixen model as a base. When worn, a part of it will activate, transmittin' a signal from wherever you are, to us. This way, they can give us a live feed of the building through your 'eyes'." Axelia was impressed, taking the glasses out of the case to observe them again, closely this time. She couldn't believe that someone was able to develop technology like this, as it felt like something that belonged only in the movies. She couldn't hold back the smile that found her lips, the realization of the purpose of these glasses coming to light. "So you'll see what I see... literally." She tried to tone down the excitement in her voice, unable to help the fact that she was impressed by Wendigo's ability to create actual working tech like this. "Fair dinkum!" he beamed through her earpiece, seemingly noticing her excitement which equaled his own. "Go on! Put 'em on, sheila." Axelia put the case back into her pocket, carefully putting the glasses on her face. She had to adjust them a bit on the bridge of her nose, although they felt a bit small upon her face in general. She scrunched her nose in discomfort, then tried to fix the temples of the eyeglasses behind her ears. It only made it pinch her skin worse, causing the once enthusiastic hacker to grimace annoyingly.

"Aww! You a right beaut!" Wendigo chimed in, his voice playful and teasing. It was obvious that he could see her somehow, through the traffic cams or some other unknown means. She groaned very quietly to herself, unhappy with the way the glasses sat upon her face. Did he make the glasses smaller when he designed the tech, or are Vixen glasses naturally this small? Either way, she was uncomfortable wearing them, and wanted to take them off as soon as she could. The sooner they finished whatever they needed with the glasses, the better. "Ouch. Silent treatment, eh? Alrighty then..." She did feel bad for ignoring Wendigo, as she was sure he meant no harm with the creation of these remodeled glasses. She just wanted to focus and get them off, maybe even send them back to have them refitted. "Look at the buildin', please, sheila?" She did as instructed, folding her arms over her chest as Wendigo went to work. She couldn't tell exactly what the man was doing or seeing, but she knew that - as a fellow hacker - he obviously knew what he was doing. She deferred to his judgement.  
She could hear him make long pauses of silence after quietly asking himself questions she could not hear. She wanted to ask if everything was alright, to see if there was anything she could do to help in some way. Wendigo finally spoke to her again, a long, disappointing sigh leaving him. "I can't tell what kind of security system they have. This could be tricky..." Axelia was stunned. A member of the Honey Badger's elite group of hackers was actually stumped? That didn't sound right. Weren't they the most skillful hackers in the whole world? What was he expecting to find by simply looking at a building? "How so?" she asked, curious to see if Wendigo would indulge her with his predicament. "Normally," he began, sighing again, "I could tell what kind of security someone has from the outside, as there are lil' signatures my systems can detect. The signatures are very weak to begin with, which is why I developed that there tech yous wearin' for almost six years, to perfect detectin' them." To hear that Wendigo had rigorously worked on technology for that long, just to detect very weak signatures that certain security systems seem to emit, was astonishing as well as inspiring. She couldn't believe that he did all that just for something so small. She didn't even realize that security systems had signatures to begin with. Something told her that in his past life, Wendigo worked for security companies or developed tech for them. She wouldn't put it past it. "It seems to me that these Augury blokes have gotten 'emselves quite the excellent system," Wendigo sighed, the sound of disappointment in his now lost jovial voice. "Looks like youse have to be on the inside just to see what kind of party they got in there." "So... what? We're stuck?" Axelia asked, taking off the glasses at last. To feel the relief on her face was refreshing, but that didn't stop the dissatisfaction both she and her fellow hacker acquaintance felt. Axelia couldn't believe that this group could actually be stumped when an obstacle blocks their way. She thought that they were prepared for everything that could be thrown at them. Wendigo responded after a long time in silence; "For now, yes. Until you get a job workin' on the inside."

That was something Axelia had a hard time figuring out how to achieve. She was good with computers and tech, but how was she suppose to convince an insurance company to hire her? She had worked at a phone company as an operator for tech support back in Liberty City, but that was before, and in a different city. She wasn't sure how to convince them that she would be a good match for them. "Which shouldn't be too hard for you," Wendigo suddenly said, continuing on from before. "You're quite the charming lady." Axelia could hear a hint of playfulness in his voice, causing her to raise her brow at the claim. "...and what gave you that idea?" she asked slowly, her eyes suddenly peering up at a traffic cam she finally noticed. She knew he would see her. He was definitely watching her this entire time. "People talk, sheila," he simply replied, the sound of his lips smacking as he began to eat something on the other end. "That, and... well, you _do_ look bloody beaut in a suit. It's the thing to jimmy the roo in their daks, eh?!" She suddenly heard him laughing to himself in her earpiece, obviously tickled by his own joke. She didn't quite understand it at first, although after a moment, it all began to make sense. It caused her face to fall into her palm, shaking her head at the dirty joke. Wendigo was still laughing, but it soon became apparent that he was the only one laughing, and he cleared his throat. "...bad joke, eh? Sorry." She looked up at the traffic cam, nodding gently. She knew the man meant well, but boy did he need to work on his jokes.

"Anywho, sheila," he suddenly said, his mouth stuffed with something to cause his muffled speech. "Our work here is done, for now. I suppose you can go get a brekky, and—" His voice is suddenly cut off, going completely silent on the other end. It caused Axelia to press her finger into the earpiece, calling out to him. "Hey. Uh.. Wendi? What happened?" She tried to act natural, pretending to be talking to a friend on the phone in the street, but when there was no response, she began to worry. Why did his voice cut out like that? Was there already a problem on their end? There was no way that was possible, but she couldn't help but think of the worse. "Wendi. I think you lost your signal," she said, pretending to act casual. "How about you call me back when you have some bars? Okay? I'm gonna hang up now..." In truth, she didn't know how to hang up the call on the earpiece. She tried feeling around for a button, but couldn't seem to find one. She decided taking it off would be best. But as she was about to, a voice spoke softly in her ear, one that startled her greatly.

"Axel."

"Badger?!"

Her voice was low and harsh, nearly surprised by the distorted, garbled sound of his voice. She stood still on that curb, listening intently to the Honey Badger's words as he spoke to her. "Wendigo explained your predicament. It is unfortunate that his latest tech is not working. I personally helped fund his research." So that was how Wendigo was able to develop the tech for the glasses. The Honey Badger must be some secret billionaire, as it must've costed a fortune to even attempt to fund a project like that. "Axel. You need to listen now. I believe it's time." Axelia was confused, her eyes gazing slowly up at the traffic cam. "I can see you are puzzled. Do not be." She bit her lip, shaking her head. This was a lot she was taking in, and none of it was even making sense. What did he mean it was time? Time for what? Why should she not be confused when that is all she feels in this current situation? "I don't understand," she responded, sighing in defeat. "You will in time," Badger responded coolly, despite his deeply garbled, autotuned voice. "Go to the nearby clothing store, Ponsonboy. It is across the street, back where you came but around the opposite side of Rockfort Hills Plaza." What was the Honey Badger asking of her? Ponsonboy was a luxury clothing store that specialized in suits and other high-end clothing. She certainly didn't have that kind of cash on her, not right away. Why should she go there? "I need you to explain somethi—" "There is no time, Axel," Badger cuts her short, his voice a bit sharper in her ear. "All will make sense when you go there. It's not far. Please." Axelia groaned quietly to herself. She was starting to get tired of being told to go from one place to another, without so much as an explanation as to why or what the purpose was. She understood that they were basically a secret society of hackers, but even so. She was becoming irritated with the running around. "Fine," she finally replied, looking in the direction of the traffic cam. "But there better be a good explanation for all of this." "There will be, Axel," she heard the Honey Badger respond, his voice now softer again. "I promise."

* * *

At least seven people came into this store, that being three men, two women, and a married couple. Axelia couldn't understand why she was here, especially since she was obviously out of place. The Honey Badger may have told her to come here, but nothing more. He said that it would make sense when she came here, but it only continued to confuse her further. She looked at one of the men's suits, noting the quality of the fabric as the married couple was getting rung up at the register. Axelia knew she couldn't afford suits of this quality, but then again, she wasn't here to shop. She was thinking about leaving. Why would she stay here another minute more when there was obviously nothing here for her? Just as the thought occurred to her, she witnessed a black SUV pull up, parking right outside the store. She watched as a couple men in suits and sunglasses got out, one opening the door to the backseat to allow a third person to get out. The third was a woman, her ebony skin elegantly cared for, adorned with makeup and perfect violet lipstick. It didn't look too dark upon her lips, nor did it distract the eyes from the rest of her features on her face. She wore an equally expensive suit, one with a skirt as she approached the door, one of the men opening it for her to enter. She wore oversized sunglasses and a large hat, her long, luscious brown locks gracefully bouncing with every stride the woman took. There was no way this woman was someone she was expecting. At least, the Honey Badger didn't say to expect anyone. Besides, this woman was one of high class, who was swimming in cash and needed a place to blow it all. There was no way she was a part of the Honey Badger's crew. Axelia returned her attention to the fabric as the unknown woman approached, also looking at the fabric of another suit. She tried to focus her attention away from the rich woman beside her, unknowingly disregarding how close this woman was to her.

"The Honey Badger sends his deepest apologies," the woman suddenly whispered under her breath.

"What?"

The unknown woman had spoke to her, and she knew the Honey Badger. Now she just couldn't believe it. This rich woman knew exactly who she was, and knew the Honey Badger as well. But that couldn't be. How would a woman of this stature know the leader of an elite group of underground hackers? Who was she? "He wanted to meet you in person, but business called him away. He sent me in his place." Axelia slowly turned away, trying to act casual in the store as she spoke to the woman. "Is that right?" "Don't be so selfish," the woman snapped. "The man has a lot of business to conduct. You'll have to deal with me until we get back." She turned to the ebony skinned woman again, watching her looking at the women's suits now. "What the hell is that suppose to mean? Get back where?" she asked the woman, who only sighed in reply. "He didn't explain anything, didn't he? Typical." She turned to face Axelia, removing her oversized designer sunglasses to look her in the eye. They were a beautiful chocolate color, but were stern and serious as she stared daggers back into the green eyes of Axelia's. "I am Umbra," she spoke delicately, putting her glasses in her suit's breast pocket. "The Badger sent me to provide my services. We're getting you a suit for tomorrow, for work." "Wait. We're actually buying something from here?" This was a bit overwhelming. Most of the clothing here ran well into the thousands when it came to the price. Did this woman truly have that kind of money to flash around? "Yes," Umbra replied with a scoff, grabbing the suits she was observing earlier from the rack. "After we're done here, we're going to headquarters. He is expecting you." Axelia's eyes widened immensely, gazing back into the eyes of the woman before her with surprise and excitement. "Are you serious?" she asked, nearly beaming. She couldn't believe that she was going to their headquarters, the secret HQ that no one in the whole world — save for the actual group — knew existed. The woman approached her, her face completely unfazed by this fascination that Axelia had. She suddenly shoved the suits and clothing into her hands. "Yes. Now try these on. The sooner we find suits that fit, the sooner we can get out of here and back to headquarters." She clapped her hands in a hurrying manner, then proceeded to lead Axelia quickly to the changing room. The cashier looked at one of the suits in her hands, saying it would look smashing with a camisole if she wore it. Umbra ignored the woman's suggestion, pushing Axelia into a dressing room to change.

About an hour, and many suits later, she was done at last. Axelia didn't think that Umbra was so serious with clothes, but she did certainly seem high-maintenance. Umbra also did end up grabbing a black camisole for one of the suits the young hacker fitted into, seeing how it did work with one of the outfits. As she watched Umbra take her suits, she pulled out her wallet, noting how little cash she had on her person. "I'm not sure how he expects me to pay for all this," Axelia admitted, shaking her head. "You're not," Umbra replied sharply, leaving the young woman in the dressing room and approaching the cash register. "We'll take the lot, thank you." She pulled out a credit card, swiping it elegantly as the young hacker came around the corner, adjusting her comfy black sweater. The Honey Badger was more than willing to pay for clothes as well as accommodate anyone who worked for him, a fact that Axelia was beginning to realize more and more. Just how much money does he have? There has to be some source he works through to earn the cash to pay for all of these expenses. If the Honey Badger pays his crew for their hard work, as well as pay for newly furnished apartments for other members, who pays the Honey Badger? It didn't make much sense.  
Umbra took the bag of suits for Axelia and gave them to one of the men, who carried it while the woman put her designer sunglasses back on. "Come, Ms. Payton. We cannot be late." Axelia took a breath, following the woman willingly out of the store. The men opened the door to the backseat, allowing the two women to get in as they quickly packed the bags into the trunk, getting in and starting the car to finally drive away. The driver made a U-turn as soon as he was able, driving in the opposite direction as Umbra took off her sunglasses again. "So you're Axel." Her voice didn't sound impressed, her eyes equally so as her chocolate hues looked the young woman up and down. "I was expecting a man until Badger told me you were a woman." "Yeah. I get that a lot," Axelia repeated, looking out the window. She wanted to memorize the streets. so that the next time she had to go to this place, she wouldn't need an escort. It was nice, however, to meet more members of the Honey Badger's group, as now she could only assume that Umbra and these two men were all hackers. "So what's your story?" she asked, trying to be friendly and make conversation with the rich woman. "No." "What?" Axelia looked over at her, confused. "I do not know you well enough, Ms. Payton. And above all..." Umbra leans over, a harsh glare in her eye. "...I do not trust you. Whatever Badger sees in you, I don't see it. He says you're special, but I call bullshit." She leans back in her seat, staring straight ahead with a scoff. "Even with that Decker job back in Liberty City, it does you no credit to me. So you hacked a computer to prove a business partner was stealing money from them. Big deal." "You don't like me very much, and we only just met," Axelia pointed out, crossing her arms. She didn't like being attacked by a fellow member of the Honey Badger's crew, even if they looked to be one of the most respectable members. Why was she not accepting of her? It's not her fault that the Honey Badger wanted her to join.

Umbra chuckled smugly to herself, peering over in Axelia's direction. "It's not that I don't _like _you, dear. I don't _trust_ you. There is a distinct difference." Rain suddenly began to patter against the car, Axelia noticing that the clouds finally decided to form a storm. The rhythmical sound of the rain hitting against the car was a soothing sound to her ears, and she could remember many times it lulling her to sleep in the past. "I just want to understand what he _sees_ in you," Umbra went on. "You are obviously on his personal list. You, Ghost, Wendigo, even that little hellion, Frostbyte… there is something about you band of misfits that he sees that I don't. I will never understand that man's vision, even back when he started this whole thing." Axelia suddenly realized then that Umbra wasn't just one of the Honey Badger's crew members. She was one of the original members that started this. She had to be, by the sounds of it. Were things different in the past? How long has the group been active? There were so many new questions that she knew she wasn't going to get answers to right now. "Maybe one day, we'll find out together," Axelia said with hopefulness in her voice, her eyes gazing back out the window. The rain made it difficult to memorize the streets and buildings in the area, making tracking this place down even harder on her. Umbra scoffed quietly to herself, looking out the window. "We shall see, Ms. Payton. But I will not hold my breath. The Honey Badger is an enigma even to me. Even after all those years in the—" She suddenly chuckled to herself, leaning back into her seat. "Look at that. You _almost_ got me talking about myself."

The driver suddenly turned as they went under a highway, into a little path that was not entirely obscured, but also barely unnoticeable at the same time. It was confusing as to why they were going down this road, as it eventually led to the large storm drain. Was the location of their secret headquarters truly underground? They drove all the way to the end of the long storm drain, up to where the tiny lake was beyond the drain itself. The driver drove across the flowing drain water, up to a tunnel that Axelia barely saw in all this rain. It was dark and damp inside the tunnel, and the driver moved very slowly with the SUV. The tunnel had lots of downhills as it went further underground, the lighting getting darker and darker the further they traveled. "Why are we down here?" Axelia asked, looking out the window in confusion. "You already know why," Umbra replied, simply staring ahead. The driver drove further into the tunnel before stopping, looking in the rearview mirror at the women in the back. "We're here," he said, his voice surprisingly deep. "Let them know we've arrived," Umbra ordered, causing Axelia to look towards the front seats. The driver gently nodded his head before honking his horn. It sound of the horn echoed even more loudly down in the tunnel, a sharp ringing suddenly humming in Axelia's ear when the driver stopped honking it. Was that their signal to let others know they were there? Where were the others, and how were they to get to HQ from here? The tunnel obviously went on further, but they stopped here, where there was nothing on either wall except lights. What was going on?

Just then, the wall beside them suddenly opened up, revealing a secret door that led the group onto an elevator. It was a large, wide elevator, big enough to hold at least two vehicles before descending down into the unknown depths. The driver pulled into the large cargo elevator, a moment passing before the doors suddenly closed behind them and brought the elevator to life. It chugged harshly before finally lowering slowly, as if it was purposely lagging to allow a more careful descent to the underground. "This is amazing!" Axelia gasped breathlessly, watching the elevator's mechanisms grinding away out the window. "How did the Honey Badger set all this up? It's like he's Bruce Wayne with a Bat Cave, and everything!" There was silence in the car for some time, causing the young woman to turn to see why Umbra didn't respond to her. She discovered that the ebony skinned woman had her eyes glued on her phone the moment they got onto the elevator, her finger swiping word after word on the device. Axelia decided to lean forward to the front seat, asking the men instead. "Hey! Has this always been here?" One of the men didn't respond, but the driver turned a little, startled by her voice. "I suppose it has. I'm not sure." "What?" Axelia was baffled. "How could you not know? Haven't been working for the Honey Badger since... forever?" The driver shook his head, looking away bashfully. "To be honest, I only started working for him about a month ago. I ain't much of a hacker." A surprised gaze came upon her face at this man's admittance, now even more intrigued than ever. So the Honey Badger didn't recruit just hackers, he also recruited regular people, too. But what was this man's skills? "So... what _did_ you do, before all this?" she asked curiously, leaning on her elbow. The driver looked at her through his rearview mirror, gently clearing his throat as he adjusted his tie. "I... I boosted cars. I ain't proud of it, but... I was hurting for cash and needed the money so my kids could eat. Then Badger came along, took care of 'em. He said he could use a skillful driver like me, so... here I am." Axelia slowly leaned back in her seat as the driver told his little story, the disclosure of his tale causing an overwhelming sensation in her heart. The Honey Badger truly did seem like the type of man who helped others out of the kindness of his heart, finding ways to give these people a second chance to do something good with the skills they have. She couldn't believe that a simple man such as this driver, who only did this terrible crime to feed his own family, caught the attention of a man of renown like the enigmatic Honey Badger. It made sense, too. Not all hackers are good drivers, or just didn't want to drive, thus having a man like him be their driver was reassuring. She wondered if this was all he did, however. Was there any dangerous driving jobs he did take for the Honey Badger, and if so, what were they? And then there were the other members of the crew. Did the Honey Badger recruited them when they were at their lowest, to help them find ways to do something good in their life?

"We're here," Umbra suddenly said, stealing Axelia away from her thoughts again.

The elevator groaned heavily as it finally reached the bottom of the shaft, a large grate opening to reveal a parking lot. There were a number of vehicles here, all of different shapes, sizes and brands. It amazed her how this place could fit that many vehicles at once. The driver pulled into a random parking spot, turning the SUV off and promptly exiting the vehicle along with his counterpart. Both men opened the doors for the women to exit the vehicle, with Umbra making haste towards a set of doors on the opposite end of the parking lot. "Hurry, Ms. Payton. We don't have all evening." She quickly turned to the driver before leaving. "Make sure her clothes are delivered to her apartment immediately. She will need them for tomorrow." The driver nodded and went right to work, taking the bags out of the trunk and moving them to another vehicle. He would soon get into this vehicle to depart, the driver never to be seen again by Axelia until some unforeseen future. She followed Umbra as instructed, knowing that keeping this woman waiting would be asking for more trouble. Upon entering the doors, Umbra removed her oversized hat, her long locks also coming off with the hat to reveal her short, black hair, which was adorned with a single, red strip on one of her bangs. "Finally," she said as she sighed in relief. "I hate that wig. It ruins my hair." Axelia had no idea that Umbra was even wearing a wig that entire time, her eyes staring at the fake hair attached to the hat intently as the woman waved it around haphazardly. A sudden crash echoed as something heavy fell in the distance, followed by a voice; "Oi! Careful with that, ya drongo!" The familiar voice caught Axelia's attention, as she turned in the direction it came from. Down the stairs from the doors they entered from was a large opened room, filled with many different terminals and computers, a multitude of generators and lights, and over dozens of cords and wires everywhere. There were people of all different nationalities in this room, from different social circles and walks of life chattering away or working, one of them even playing with a hacky sack. "Frostbyte!" Umbra suddenly called, causing the young man with the hacky sack to stop playing. "What the hell are you doing here, boy? You're suppose to be at home with your mother."  
The young man fluffed his spiked hair, careful to make sure it didn't lose its shape. It was all white with blue tips, almost as if the hair was frosted and cold to the touch. He obviously cared very much for his hair, as shown by his delicate hands combing it back. "Pssh! You for reals?" he laughed as he approached, gripping onto the railing of the stairs. "When I heard that Badger was gonna make a big speech, I had to come. I wouldn't miss seein' him for the world!" Umbra placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head disappointingly. "You are suppose to be at home doing your homework, not fooling around here." "You're not my ma, Umbra! I can come and go as I please!" the man argued, before noticing Axelia behind her. He whistled as he got a good look at her, tilting his head so she could see him. "Heya boo," he called in a singsong voice. "They call me Frostbyte. And might I say, you lookin' mighty fine, mama." Axelia let out a dry chuckle, placing her hand on her hip. "Son, how old are you?" Frostbyte chuckled playfully, shrugging his shoulders as he still held onto the railing. "Sixteen. But I'll be seventeen in three months!" Axelia shook her head as Umbra dropped her head into her hands, groaning annoyingly. "Boy don't make me call your mother and tell her you skipped the last three days of school," the ebony skinned woman threatened, glaring at the boy. He gasped dramatically, his hands flying to his mouth. "Oh _no_! What _ever _shall I do?!" he asked jokingly, obviously not fazed by Umbra's threats. "Ya should threaten to tell his mum about that porn stash o' his, instead," a familiar voice called out, causing the boy to actually spin around in terror. "Aw shit, dude! Don't tell her about that! I'll never hear the end of it!" A man in slim glasses approached from behind the row of computers, his finger pushing the glasses up on his nose more. "Then ya better start listenin' to Miss Umbra, ya ankle biter. She's like the mama kangaroo 'round here when the Honey Badger's away." Axelia couldn't help but smile as she heard the man's voice, knowing that this was none other than— "Wendigo!" The man in glasses turned to see her, a joyous smile crossing his lips. "Crikey, Axel! Ya here!" The boy snapped his head back to look at the woman on the stairs, his head cocking puzzlingly. "Wait. _That's_ Axel? I thought they were a dude." "Apparently, she gets that a lot," Umbra groaned, finally descending the stairs. Axelia followed behind her, finally coming face to face with Wendigo and Frostbyte as she shook the former's hand.

"I'm really glad to finally meet you in person," she said enthusiastically, a kind smile upon her lips. "Ah, the pleasure is all mine, sheila!" Wendigo had an equally nice smile, his finger pushing up his glasses again. He had a scrawny build compared to the young Frostbyte beside him, who was more than glad to show off his toned arms with his sleeveless hoodie. Wendigo adjusted his loose button-up shirt, stuffing his shirt tail into the back of his trousers. "Badger's talkin' with one of our own at the moment, sheila," he told her, leading her away and toward a platform near the far back of the room. There were stairs that led up to the platform, a door being the only thing between this room and the next. Axelia could only assume that it was an office of some kind, possibly belonging to the Honey Badger. A tall, dark figure slowly walked back and forth in front of the large glass window of this office, their face obscured by what looked like a hood and a face mask. "Who is he talking to?" she asked, her eyes locked onto the figure beyond the window. Wendigo adjusted his glasses, looking over at the female hacker as he answered her. "Ghost. She came back from a lil' job someone hired her for. See, when non-Hackernites contacts us, they basically give up their role in the job they were hired for. Meanin', the one who originally hired that hacker now has to pay us instead of them." "Non-Hackernites..?" Axelia turned to face the scrawny man, the term he used completely unfamiliar to her. "Ah right. Ya don't know our official name," Wendigo said, shuffling over to a computer terminal that suddenly flashed a bright light. He began to do a string of inputs quickly, working as he begins to explain. "We are the Hackernites. A weird name, no doubt. But that is what Badger says we are, and I'm bloody rapt to be one." The computer finally stopped flashing, the man stretching as he turned to face her. "Yeah, not all of us are hackers, but most of us are. We're like one big family." He approached again, a comical smile upon his lips. "Betcha thought we'd be a buncha dags, eh, sheila?" She turned to look the place over once more, a quiet sigh leaving her as she tries to wrap her head around the terms Wendigo is using. "You talk so differently than everyone else," she admitted, turning her attention back to the dark figure in the office above. "I have a hard time understanding you. I'm sorry." Wendigo let out a little laugh, sweeping back his blonde locks as he nods his head. "Sorry. Guess the Outback in me is strong. Blame my pa."

So she guessed right. He _was_ Australian.

The door suddenly opened and everyone in the room stood at attention, staring silently up at the office with bated breath. A woman came through the door, her posture indicating that she seemed very exhausted from some unknown prior activity. She sighed as she fixed her pixie styled hair, a hand suddenly clamping down upon her shoulder, causing her to turn around. And there, standing at the door was a tall man in a heavy trench coat, his collar pulled up completely to help obscure his face. He wore a very intricate face mask, one that resembled that of an animal's muzzle, full of teeth that peeked through the creature's snarl. He wore a hood over his head, indicating that under that trench coat was a hooded jacket that he also wore. He squinted his eyes at the woman before him, blinking in silence as he delicately took her hand. Axelia couldn't tell exactly what this man was doing, but she did notice the thick yellow envelope he handed her. He wrapped the woman's fingers around it, holding her hands close to his chest as he looks up into her eyes. "For Alex," he suddenly said, his voice completely garbled and heavily distorted to hide the man's true identity. There was absolutely no doubt in Axelia's mind now.

This man that stood before them, with that mask and coat, was none other than the legendary, enigmatic Honey Badger, leader of the supposedly infamous Hackernites.

"Thank you," the woman before him said, holding the envelope close to her chest as she slowly began to make her way to the stairs of this platform. The Honey Badger looked out to the crowd that watched him diligently, gazing over them like a king would look over his subjects, standing with such pride before them. He finally turned his eyes upon Axelia, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine as the man suddenly outstretches his hand towards her. "Axel." His voice was so commanding, unknowingly causing her to gasp out loud when he called her name. It was as if she were in middle school again, getting spooked when the teacher called on her for some unknown reason. He beckoned her to him, his fingers gently motioning her to come to him on the platform. Everyone in the room stared at her as she slowly began to make her way to the same set of stairs the other woman was taking, her heart pounding as she took a breath to steady herself. Now she felt like she was definitely back in school, going to the principle's office because she caused some serious trouble with her teacher. As she began to ascend the stairs, she past by the woman holding the envelope, both women unknown entirely to one another meeting eye to eye for the first time.

Her dark brown pixie cut was beautifully curled and complemented her features well, along with the many freckles that dotted her sweetly aged face so delicately. The reading glasses upon her face had slipped a little, revealing the woman's luscious lashes and tired, yet gorgeous grey eyes that seemed to reflect flakes of Axelia's green hues in them. The baggy sweater she wore was almost similar to the one that Axelia was wearing now, although it was definitely a different brand than hers. The bracelet on her wrist seemed to be handcrafted, adorned with beads of all shapes and sizes, even in a multitude of colors. Following the beads on her wrist, Axelia noticed that the woman had a tattoo as well, but because she was clenching the envelope in her arms to tightly, it was hard to tell exactly what the tattoo was. Her footsteps were lighter than Axelia's as well, probably because of the tennis shoes she was wearing compared to her own heavy black boots. The woman's eyes lingered long enough to see Axelia give a tiny, sweet smile to her before turning away, a shyness that she had not noticed the woman had before. They both went their separate ways, the woman seemingly on her way out of the compound while Axelia was to finally greet the Honey Badger again in person.

This would be the second time she had stood before the giant of a man, her eyes gazing up into his unnaturally beautiful auburn orbs before motioning her inside. It was dark inside his office, with little to no illumination within. He couldn't secretly be a vampire, could he? She took a deep breath as she entered his office, the leader of the Hackernites looking over his subjects once again before finally following the young woman inside. He closed the door promptly, a loud, echoing slam resonating within the underground compound. She could feel her heart in her throat, the man's presence somehow terrifying as his large form slowly staggered toward the window. He took a moment as he stood there, quietly noting how his crew was still staring up at the office window so silently. She heard him scoff before reaching his hand over to a button on the wall, pressing it after a short delay in his actions. The shades for the window began to slowly lower over it, obscuring both his crew's view and hers from one another. "We do not need the distraction," he explained, his voice so deeply garbled and yet, so soft as he spoke. He hit another button on the wall, the room ever so softly illuminating to reveal the man's extremely messy desk, and multiple boards on the walls that were completely decked out with information from all sorts of sources. There were faces she didn't recognize, information from multiple sources she didn't know. One name did seem to repeat itself, however — a one Lester Crest. Did the Honey Badger deal with this person often? There was even an entire map of the island, revealing a lot of activity happening in the city with even fewer ones happening in Blaine County and beyond. She was mesmerized by these boards full of knowledge, her eyes wanting to drink up every bit before she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.  
She turns to stand face to face before the Honey Badger, his snarling face mask and towering figure quite intimidating as he stares down at her quietly. He stood there for a long time, just staring at her in silence before he motions her to his desk, moving deftly but with purpose. She follows behind him as he slowly approaches it, noting that the man seemed sluggish with every step he took. Was he injured or exhausted? This didn't seem typical of the man, as he had such a noble air about him. She heard his distorted voice sigh, his fists pressing hard on the desk. "Ten years," he whispers suddenly. "I have been waiting for this day for ten long years. The day you take Augury down once and for all." She blinked in surprise, not even realizing that he had been after this company for that long. But if that were true, then why did he only just discover their recent activity when she returned to Vice City, as he claimed before? Unless, they have been scamming their customers for that long, and only now, he had the proof to finally show the world. She saw him reach for a picture frame on his desk, which he delicately paws with his free hand. She tried peering over his shoulder to see who was on the photograph, but was denied, the picture now being held close to the Honey Badger's chest as he clenches his gloved fist tightly. "I could not do what you are about to do. I did not have the strength nor the means to stop them all those years ago... when they hurt the one _I _care about." He carefully places the picture frame back down, the picture still obscured from Axelia's view. "I have been waiting for so long, unfortunately allowing countless others to go through the same pain as I had. But not anymore."

He turned to face the woman before him, his eyes growing soft as he places a hand upon her shoulder once more. "Axelia Payton," he continues, startling her as she heard him call her by her real name. He reached inside his coat, retrieving something he wore around his neck. Unraveling it from his coat, it was revealed it to be none other than a flash drive that hung on a lanyard, which he seemed to keep very close to his person. His nimbly removed the flash drive from the cord it hung from, gripping it tightly before he took her hand and placed the tiny object in it. He sighed as he folded her fingers over the flash drive, his hands cupping her own like a father cradling their child one last time. "This flash drive," his garbled voice began, the man's steely eyes locking with her own, "is the key to taking Augury down. It contains a virus that I have developed over the last ten years. It's purpose is to find the files that contain the scams they are running, and expose it all over the internet. They wouldn't be able to stop it once the media gets their hands on that information. I know it exists. And this virus will help you find it." He unexpectedly looked exhausted as he began to explain himself, as if he forced himself to fight for this long to give her this flash drive. She could see it in his eyes. The Honey Badger was working himself to death to expose this insurance company that not only wronged hundreds, if not thousands of people, but also seemed to have wronged him in the past. He took a long breath as he composes himself, trying to keep the mysterious, elegant air about him strong as he looks down at her. "You have deserved redemption for so long. Do this single task for me, Axelia Payton. Do this task, and the thousands of lives that were affected by Augury will be saved from this fraudulence... and you will be redeemed."  
She felt inundated with this task, as the importance of this single, tiny flash drive meant that everything he had worked for would be riding all on her success. It was a lot to put on a person, and she was feeling the affects deeply. She knew she could not fail him. Doing so would not only mean that she failed the Hackernites, but that she failed to save the innocent people of Los Santos as well. "I want you to be my sword," he continued. "I want you to cut them down from where they stand, and make them see the error in their ways. I want them to know what it is like to be scammed out of the millions they have stolen from the people they had sworn to help. Be my merciless angel, and help me destroy Augury Insurance." She felt her chest swell as he spoke to her, an powerful emotion washing over her as he holds her hand close to his chest. The man truly was exhausted, but he didn't let it discourage him. He wasn't going to allow himself to be dissuaded from accepting this mission, as she knew she couldn't do either. The fact he was even giving her a second chance, especially after what she had done in her youth, living with that nightmare day in and day out. She closed her eyes as she felt the man's heartbeat through his chest, the steady thrumming of his heart creating a sense of calm in her soul as she takes an lungful of air.

"Axelia Payton. Do you truly accept this task?"

She finally opened her eyes to look up at him, her purpose as clear as her conscious and her decisions.

"Yes."

* * *

She was standing over the sink in the women's bathroom of Augury Insurance, practicing her breathing as she tried to calm herself. This was the big day. The day that this company was going to go down and bite the dust it rolled in with. She breathed through her nose and out of her mouth slowly, her chest rising and falling gently as she practices her lines in her head. The earpiece in her ear came to life again, the familiar Australian voice chiming in, as expected. "G'day, sheila! Lookin' like a right beaut today, I'm sure!" She chuckles at his compliment, adjusting her suit coat. "I won't lie. I'm nervous as hell," she admitted, smoothing out her suit pants next. Wendigo made a sound as he loudly slurped his drink in her ear, lightly smacking his lips afterwards. "Ah, don't worry! She'll be right," he said, trying his best to encourage her. "Ya got everythin' you need. The flash drive, the glasses, the earpiece. Fair dinkum, sheila, she'll be right!" She shook her head as she smiled widely, a light chuckle leaving her. She was glad that Wendigo wanted to help her personally, to be on the comms alongside Badger. She could feel the uneasy weight in her chest leave as she felt a bit calmer than before. "Wendigo, I will never understand what the hell you're saying," she chuckled, fixing her hair one last time. "I can only pretend to understand at least _half_ of the words that come out of your mouth. And even then, that doesn't do me much good." "Whatever helps ya sleep at night, sheila," he laughed jokingly, causing the woman to laugh softly in return. "How the new glasses workin' out for ya? Ya try 'em on yet?"  
Axelia took out the familiar eyeglass case she had in her small briefcase, opening it to reveal the newly redesigned Vixen modeled glasses that Wendigo had adjusted for her. After her meeting with the Honey Badger, the leader explained his ultimate plan, how she was to be the one to infiltrate and integrate into the Augury workspace, use the flash drive to locate the files needed to help expose their schemes, and upload them to the internet for the news and media outlets to find and do with as they saw fit. It was then that she approached Wendigo, explaining how the glasses were too small and desired a bigger pair. He was more than happy to oblige, immediately tinkering away at the glasses to adjust them, as well as update his tech to work better and be more obscured to the naked eye. Axelia finally placed the glasses on her face, a silent sigh of relief leaving her as she was happy to discover that the glasses did, indeed, fit her face properly. She looked at herself in the mirror, knowing that Wendigo could see her reflection through the special hidden cams and signatures on the glasses. "Perfect fit," she said, standing proud and tall in the mirror. Wendigo didn't say anything for a long time. She wondered if there was something wrong, or if he finally learned who was operating the security in this place. But instead, the man's voice was soft as he whispered in her ear. "You really are a bloody beaut, sheila." She smiled shyly, her eyes gazing away from her reflection as she finished adjusting her suit. She didn't really feel beautiful but she did feel like a powerful woman standing before the mirror like this, her posture tall and serious.

"That is the stance of a confident woman," the Honey Badger's distorted voice echoed through the earpiece, nearly startling the woman as she does everything to keep her composure. "This is perfect, Axel. You will need to bring this attitude to the CEO's office, and put him in his place." She huffed quietly, nodding in reply. "Who is he?" Wendigo could be heard typing away at lightning speeds on his computer, obviously obtaining information for the Honey Badger to convey to her. "The CEO of Augury Insurance is one Dickens Cunningham. Forty-one years old, plays tennis on the weekends, owns an overly priced sports car, and is quite literally the embodiment of the man's name." She snorted as she heard the Honey Badger actually attempt a joke, noting that it was a bit funny for dry humor. "This man loves to hear himself talk. He will talk for hours if you let him, Axel. Exercise extreme caution." She nodded in reply, finally adjusting her small wristwatch. "He absolutely abhors women. He may not seem like he does, as there are mostly female employees working here, but the man despises them. He believes his position gives him the power to control them. Do not let him control you." Axelia thought about the CEO Dickens Cunningham, about all the information that was just shared to her by the Honey Badger personally.  
The very description of the man was enough to make her sick to her stomach. She had to face him, this man who looked down on women with distain, who saw himself superior to his feminine counterparts. How do the women in this place even cope with a man like him? Do they bow to him, giggling as he forcibly flirts with each and every one of them? She felt her throat tightened at the thought of it. It made her feel dirty, as if she was about to willingly walk right into sewage drain at someone's leisure. She prayed she had the strength to ward him off. She knew she had to if she wanted get hired here, and finish the job she was sent to do. She took one last look in the mirror to make sure every piece of her was in place, a much needed deep sigh helping her relieve some weight off her shoulders. "Alright. I'm ready," she announced, determination in her eyes as well as her voice. She knew that they were watching what she could see through her glasses, possibly getting into position to help her the best they could at headquarters. She was grateful to them. "Erm… Axel?" Wendigo's voice suddenly stops her from exiting the bathroom, her forearm resting against the door as she waited for the Australian to speak. This was the first time she could sense dread in his voice, as the man always seemed so jovial and goofy whenever he could. She did understand his duress, but knew he really shouldn't worry. Axelia believed that everything would work out well in the end, even if it becomes a challenge getting there. The man with the heavy accent let out a shaky sigh.

"Be careful, love."

Axelia blinked as she noticed Wendigo changed her nickname for her. She was utterly taken aback by this man's sweet gesture, his genuine concern for her growing strong since the moment the two of them spoke to each other right outside this building just yesterday. She couldn't stop the smile that found her lips, relieved that there were still people out there who actually cared for her.

"Thank you."

She whispers as she finally exits the ladies' bathroom, immediately being greeted by the familiar black and blue interior of the building. People in suits were coming to and from the elevators, some eating lunch, while others were discussing the policies to new customers. It looked as ordinary as any ordinary day in Los Santos. Axelia knew the truth behind the matter, however. There were darker things happening here in the city, and this company was one of those stains. She approached the information desk, where a man greeted her with a friendly smile. Upon telling the man her purpose here, he immediately phones the offices upstairs, letting whoever was on the other end know that there was a "possible new hire." Axelia didn't like the fact that she had to be hired here. If she had the choice, she would do something more meaningful in her life, something that wasn't so dangerous or awful. What that thing was, she wasn't entirely too sure, but she knew it would be more relaxing than this. The man at the information desk directed her to the elevators, informing her that she must go to the top floor to meet "the big man." She already disliked the sound of that, her stomach feeling as if it were in knots as she began her ascent in the elevator.  
As the elevator arrives to the top floor, she is greeted by a singular hallway, with a set of glass doors that revealed the color scheme in the next room suddenly shifting. The stylized black and blue palette Augury is known for had transformed into a palette of powerful icy whites and a cooling grey tone. The floors were as white as pearls, the walls stylized with grey wood. A jagged blue and black stripe lined the wall on the left as soon as one walked beyond the glass doors, which possibly led towards the office of Dickens Cunningham, himself. As she pushed the glass door opened, behind a long, white desk, sat a woman in a grey pinstripe suit, clicking away at the computer in front of her. The phone would ring before Axelia would make it to her desk, the woman promptly answering it with a shrill, grating voice; "Hello. This is the office of Dickens Cunningham at Augury Insurance. Blaire speaking. How may we insure your life today?" As the woman known as Blaire finished her introduction to the caller on the phone, she peered up, noticing Axelia right away. "I'm sorry. The position for a security team has already been filled. Thank you and have a pleasant day!" She hung up the phone immediately, turning her attention to Axelia as she walked in. "How may I help you today, miss?" Blaire was overly friendly towards her, which could've been comforting if not for her shrilly voice. "Axelia Marston. I came to speak with your boss."

Before she came here, the Honey Badger wanted Axelia to choose a false name. In order to protect her identity and secure her position in this company, they knew they needed to create a whole new life for her to pretend to live. But Axelia didn't want to change her first name, much to the Honey Badger's dismay. Still, she did agree to change her last name to one she preferred, which was Marston, her mother's maiden name. She would remember stories her mother's family had told her, about how she was from a line of cowboys and gunslingers, how her great-great grandfather — known as John Marston — was the most vicious criminal in the Old West. However, her family said that that's what history would've taught, but her great-grandfather — the son of John Marston — left a journal that detailed how his father was murdered after striking a deal with government agents, despite doing everything they wanted him to do. The journal depicted how he hunted down the men who murdered his father three years after his death, avenging him before finally settling down to start his own family, willing to keep his father's family name alive. And for many years, it did, until her mother was born. She was an only child in that family, which meant that the Marston name finally came to an end. But Axelia believed that even though the name faded away, the Marston line lived on in her. She was willing to accept the name, not because of her mother, but because of her great-great grandfather, who was wronged by men more powerful than he was. She hoped to bring redemption to his name.

"Do you have an appointment?" Blaire asked, arching a brow. "I do. It's in five minutes." The receptionist looked down at her notepad, finding that, indeed, Axelia had an appointment with the CEO. She gave a friendly smile, pressing a button on the phone on her desk to call up her boss. "Mr. Cunningham?" "_What is it,_ _Blaire? I am a very busy man!_" Axelia did everything she could to hide her trembling fist, but it deceived her slightly. The man had answered the receptionist rudely, his own strident voice harshly shouting back at her. He was so loud, in fact, that Axelia could hear him from beyond the short hall behind the receptionist's desk. "Your two o'clock appointment is here. The one with Ms. Marston, sir." Even with the way he shouted at her, Blaire was will so happy to respond to him, her smile not forced at all. How could this woman still smile so happily despite being a verbal punching bag? Was she thinking happy thoughts to take the abuse, or was she genuinely happy to work for this guy? The tone in the man's voice suddenly changes, a more controlled sound leaving his throat as he requests she send her in. As Blaire hangs up the phone, she turns to Axelia, that same, almost unnatural smile still plastered on her lips. "Mr. Cunningham will see you now." Axelia took a long, deep breath as she began to make her way in the direction she saw Blaire motion to, her heels echoing as they clicked along the marbled floor. Despite not yet seeing the CEO of Augury in front of her, she could already sense the dread she felt inside. The man had a cruel voice, one that shouted needlessly to anyone he deemed beneath him. The Honey Badger was right about him, which meant she knew she had to keep her guard up. There was no telling how the man would react to her, or to the act she was about to bring forth to the table.

As she rounded the corner, the room opened up to what appeared to be a whole entire living space, minus the bedroom and other essentials. The white couches and chairs circled a stylized coffee table, which even had a flat screen television accompanying the room. Beyond those chairs and couch was a long, glass table with a diorama of all of San Andreas on it, and executive chairs lining around it with one at the head of the table. She assumed that this was where the CEO conducted most of his meetings, pointing out locations using the diorama to his advantage. The man clearly had money to burn if he had this personally commissioned. "You seem impressed," a voice from behind caught her attention, causing the woman to spin on her heel and confront the man sitting behind a glass desk. His black suit and blue tie was as sharp as his eyes, which stared harshly back into her as he leaned forward in his seat. A sly, devilish grin graced the man's lips, his eyes observing her every move right down to her body language. This was, no doubt, the CEO of Augury Insurance, the man known as Dickens Cunningham. He let out an exciting sigh, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of Axelia as he stands up from behind his glass desk. "Exquisite," he said, a wide smile plastered on his lips. "Oi! She jimmied his roo," Wendigo suddenly says in her ear, holding back his laugh. She had nearly forgotten that she had left her earpiece in her ear. "Focus, Axel," Badger reminds her. "Do _not_ let him see any weakness. He thrives on overpowering women in the workplace, despite his deceptive behavior. Show him you are a woman worthy of his demanding respect." Axelia elusively nods her head, taking the earpiece out of her ear expertly as the CEO of Augury Insurance approaches her, his hand outstretched. "When they said that a new girl wanted to work here, they didn't tell me she would be so beautiful," he said, the honeyed words flowing from his mouth. He grinned as his tongue ran over his lips, disturbingly enjoying the sight of her too much. He was as slick as the oil in his hair, which kept it kempt and stylish alongside his clean shaven face. And it was enough to make her sick. "And I was told this place takes pride in it's work," she began, looking around the office once more. "But honestly? All I see is a very impressive interior, with unextraordinary employment." Dickens eyed her intently, a pearly smile suddenly crossing his lips. "Smart _and _beautiful. A little feisty, too." He withdrew his hand, realizing she wasn't going to shake it. "You want work, do you? Serious work?" She nods in reply. "I do. I am the best in my field." The CEO began to circle her, continuously looking her up and down. She hated his eyes on her, looking at her like she was some prize to be won. It made her feel even more filthy, her mind demanding she showers as soon as she gets back to her apartment. But she kept her composure, daring not to show weakness for it would give the man a chance to pounce on her. She couldn't allow that to happen, not during this crucial moment. "What are your skills?" he asks suddenly, finally finishing looking her over again. She scoffs quietly, her eyes shifting over in his direction. "You already know the answer to that. You're stalling, Mr. Cunningham." The man's smile faltered a bit, obviously realizing that she was not going to play the typical card most women in this position would fall for. As she arched her brow at him, the man's pearly smile returned, now even wider than before. "I suppose I am, Ms. Marston." Dickens returned to his executive chair, sitting down in it slowly and crossing his leg before inviting Axelia to sit. After a moment, she takes a breath and moves to take a sit on the other side of his desk.  
"You are a very intriguing woman," the man admitted, leaning back in his chair. "I must say, you seem familiar with how this entire rodeo show works." He suddenly leans forward, leaning over his desk to look her in the eye as another smile creeps up on his lips. "I like that in a woman. And not just any woman." He stands up with a start, coming around his glass desk to sit on the edge of it, propping his leg up on it a little. "A woman of your stature. A woman who does not accept being pushed around. A woman..." He chuckles to himself, folding his hands into his lap. "...who will do anything to get the job done. That takes ambition. And _you_ are a woman of ambition. Are you not, Ms. Marston?" Axelia could tell the man loved the sound of his own voice, just as Badger said he would. She ignored his questions, and instead, prompted one back. "And are _you _a man of this same ambition you so highly speak of?" His smile only grew, to the point that if he smiled any longer, it would get stuck that way. He stood up off his desk with a start again, circling back around it to stand beside his chair. "You have quite the mind there, Ms. Marston. You are different from most of the women who work here. You don't take anyone's bullshit." He sat down in his chair, leaning back in it lazily. "You have this... sophisticated air about you. You must think you're so confident that you'll easily land this position, that all you have to do is be tough and show me you have what it takes. You must think I demand such high praise and respect. And you would be right..." He leaned forward, clasping his hands as his eyes practically stared at her dementedly. "...I _do_ demand respect." He slowly raised out of his seat, his fists pressing hard against the glass desk. "In less than one year, I shoveled all sorts of _shit_ to get this company where it is now. I had to break backs — _stab_ backs — to get what I wanted. I poured every ounce of my _life_ into this company! And I will _damned_ if anyone, man or woman, comes in here demanding that I must immediately do the same in return!" His face was extremely flustered when his rant was done, spit ever so slightly daring to drip from his mouth as he spoke. He didn't seem to realize that he was getting heated from explaining all of this to her, that it riled him up like how bees do when they feel their nest or queen is threatened. In a moment, he realized he what he had done, immediately standing up straight to fix a single hair that had slipped from his sleek hair as he steadied his breathing. Axelia was shaken by his voice, but stood her ground as she had trained herself to do. She couldn't let the man get to her, no matter how much this behavior he displayed disturbed her. He took a very deep breath before slowing sitting back down, his hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly as he forces a smile upon his lips. "But you... you don't demand respect. You simply expect it. That's why you're so confident, isn't it? You already know what I am going to say before I say it. You've dealt with people like me before, haven't you?" Axelia kept her gaze upon him, staying extremely focused on this man. A part of her felt that if her vision ever faltered from his face, he would lash out violently at her. She did know his type. She _had_ dealt with a man like him before. Despite not receiving a reply from her, he begins to laugh erratically, leaning back in his chair. This man was like a firecracker waiting to go off, his actions speaking much louder than his words. After a moment, he stopped, sighing heavily as he stares at her intently. "We are so much alike, you and I. Two sides of the same coin." His unnatural pearly white smile returned as he stared at her, his body now entirely relaxing despite how high his blood pressure seemed to have been. "I knew I would like you the moment you stepped through that door."

They sat in those chairs a moment more before the man opened a drawer in his desk, taking out some paperwork and placing it in front of her. "This is everything I have on you. Everything you sent in," he said, his index finger tapping the paper rapidly. She glanced down at it a moment and recognized that it was the falsified resume that the Hackernites created, one that they knew he wouldn't be able to refuse. "You are a star player," Dickens continued. "A natural leader, in some cases. Nothing but high praises from your previous employers back in Liberty City. You did _everything_ you could to crawl your way to the top. You didn't force your way..." He leans forward again, the smile still plastered on his face. "...I like that. You _worked_ for it. That's why you know what I'm going to do. You know because I already knew the moment I read this resume." He stands up now, still leaning on his desk to stare Axelia in the eye. "I only have one question, one that you _must_ answer for me, Ms. Marston." She cocked her head slightly, waiting. It was a bit intimidating to sit here in silence for so long, as she desperately wanted to say so many things to the man. However, she knew she couldn't, for saying the wrong thing will blow her cover. She had to keep the act up, no matter what. Dickens eyes her up and down one last time, his face morphing from the fake, plastic smile to a deadly serious tone with stone cold eyes. "Are you going to fuck with me and my company, Ms. Marston?" Axelia chuckled softly as the man asked his question. She wanted to answer truthfully, but knew it would only screw her over. She had to keep her secret under wraps. She leaned forward herself, her hands clasping around her knee after she crosses her legs. "On the contrary, Mr. Cunningham," she begins, her voice gentle and sweet as she stares directly into the CEO's brown eyes. "I would stand to gain nothing from doing such things. I worked tirelessly to get where I am, same as you. I put my life into a company that eventually spat in my face. You, on the other hand, seem like a man who deserves the best of the best, one who is willing to follow your every word. And that, Mr. Cunningham, is what I do. I make sure the task before me is done, yes, no matter the cost... but if it costs me this company's lifeline, I will not allow it to stand. The company comes before me or anyone else... which might also mean, it comes before _you_." Her last statement caused the man to blink at her frantically, seemingly thinking about something. She knew she got his attention. She leaned back in her chair, a coy smile upon her ruby lips. "But you know what's best. I will not question your judgement. Now... does this answer satisfy you, Mr. Cunningham?" It felt as if a long time had past before Dickens suddenly smiled that fake, plastic smile again, his entire posture standing up straight and tall as his stretches his hand out to her. Axelia knew that this meant one thing, and as she stood up, he responds;

"Welcome to Augury Insurance, Ms. Marston."

She shook his hand, gripping it tightly as she knew he would like. But the man didn't release his grip on her hand. A tingle of fear began to swell in her chest as she stole glances between his hand and his face, which leaned closer to hers. His cologne was expensive and smelled horrible, as if he wore one cologne too many. His smile was still on his face, his lips slowly creeping towards her ear as he whispers ever so softly into it. "Don't fuck with me, Ms. Marston. You will regret it." She swallows harshly, the threat echoing deep in her mind. She could sense that he knew more than he was letting on, that he was happy to accept her but only because the paperwork said he should. In the end, the man was still egotistical and cruel, a misogynist and a thug all at once. She fakes a smile in return, whispering back in his. "To do so would mean death to this company, Mr. Cunningham. You have my word." She could sense he was smiling for real now, as he chuckles into her ear excitedly. After a brief moment, he releases her hand, pulling away from her to lead her towards a room nearby with a tiny row with only three computers. There were actually people here, at least two others out of the three computers. Why did he lead her here? "This is my elite staff," Dickens explained. "I want you to work closely to me. There will be times you'll have to go downstairs, possibly to deal with clients and customers, but otherwise, you'll be here. I like having my elite staff nearby to answer my calls quicker." He offers her a seat at the final computer, which she accepts immediately. "I would love for you to start today," he admitted, leaning down to her level. "Show me how quickly you can get things done." He smiled his pearly smile at her once more before finally departing, leaving her alone with the two other individuals at last. They were extremely focused on their work, completely ignoring her and zoned into their computers. "_Perfect_," she thought, taking her earpiece and putting it back into her ear. The kind voice of Wendigo was finally heard, which was frantic and worried. "Oi! Love! You okay?!" She sighs warmly, whispering. "Yes. I'm fine." She could hear him sigh in relief, his worries for her touching her deeply. "Do not respond to us anymore, Axel, just in case the other two are listening," the Honey Badger spoke, his disembodied voice nearly startling her. "Take the flash drive and insert it into the computer you're working on. It will take a moment to boot, but once it does, there will be a single file. Open it." She nodded affirmatively, immediately going into action as she takes the flash drive out of her pocket. The drive was blue and small, and looked beaten up with scratches and indentions. The Honey Badger must've had this drive with him at all times, not once letting it out of his sight. She inserted it into the computer, giving it time to boot up. She glances over at the two people beside her, who still completely ignored her. It wasn't until they both stood up to walk away together that they noticed her, but still ignored her as they asked which one of them was buying lunch. She was glad that they were gone. It gave her a moment to breathe. "Do we know what security we're dealing with yet, Wendigo?" she heard Badger asking, their voices still in her ear. "Sorry, sir. Not yet." She could hear the Honey Badger sigh disappointingly. "We can't give up. Keep scanning for signatures." She looked around every so often to help, hoping she would be able to help him spot any signatures. An angry grunt was all she got from the other end. "They're bloody good, mate," Wendigo responded angrily. The flash drive finally finished connecting, causing her to get to work right away. Axelia opened the drive, noting how it only had one file on it, named 'Venezuela'. Why was it called that? Was it a place of memory for the Honey Badger? She clicked on the file name, which revealed one more file — 'school'. There had to be a connection, she believed, between the Honey Badger, Venezuela, and some sort of school. There was no way the leader of the Hackernites would just pick these names. Something told her it was personal.

"Activate it, Axel."

The Honey Badger's voice took her out of her trance, and she responded, activating the virus and allowing it to get to work. She expected it to do something flashy, to do some sort of crazy animation while it searches the computer for the files it was suppose to search for. But nothing happened. She arched a brow, watching the screen carefully. A black textbox with a blinking white cursor appeared, asking for the password. "Tom," Badger responded, and without asking, she simply input the name. Upon entering it, the computer came to life, the virus immediately searching all throughout the computer for any proof it was designed to find. It was not at all flashy or noisy as she expected, as it instead showed a tiny pixelated honey badger pop up and disappear all over the screen. It eventually led to a pop-up suddenly flashing on screen, for Women's Preserve Skin Cream. A red dot also began to flash at the bottom of the screen, she and the others noticing it before it was on-screen for too long. "Something isn't right," Badger murmured in her ear, his voice unknowingly shaky. She didn't understand what the problem was, but knew that the red flashing dot meant trouble. Was her actions being recorded? Was it a warning that something was wrong with the computer? The pixelated honey badger seemed to reappeared and disappeared more frantically than before, which only seemed to make her nervous. This obviously wasn't suppose to happen with the virus, so what was going on? "Remove the flash drive." The Honey Badger's voice startled her again, only this time, it confused her. Why does he want her to remove it now? "Badger, mate?" Wendigo began, his voice soft. "What are ya sayin'? It's still downloadin' data to—" "Remove the flash drive now, Axel!" Badger's voice boomed loudly, causing her to immediately do as commanded. The virus immediately stops working, noting that it needed the flash drive to function at all. She could hear her heart drumming loudly in her chest. This was the first time she had ever had something like this happen to her, as most of the time, being involved with viruses were mostly successful when she did them. So why was this one any different? What caused the Honey Badger to get so spooked?  
As she pondered that thought, rapid footsteps began to approach her direction. She stuffed the flash drive into her suit pocket, immediately getting back to work on the documents that were there. It hid the pop-up that occurred during the hack, which she didn't even realize until much later. But she wouldn't have time to close it, as Dickens Cunningham returned, this time, followed by a man in a black, almost militarized uniform. The unknown stranger carried a tablet, his clothes consisting of different colors than Augury's. Axelia knew that this man was trouble, but as to what kind, she didn't know. "Is there a problem, Ms. Marston?" Dickens asked, his face contorted into one of disgust. She knew she needed to find a way to make this encounter seem confusing, as if she didn't understand the nature of this approach. She peered over at the man in the black uniform behind him, finally noticing on his hip the gun that was nestled snugly into its holster. The only ones who were allowed to have guns here were policemen or security officers. This man behind Dickens had to be one. She swallowed hard, doing her best to hide it as she stares the men in the eye. "No," she lied. There had to be a way to lure them off of her, and she needed to think fast. She leaned over and clicked a button to minimize the document, the random pop-up suddenly flashing across the screen. This had to be her ticket to safety. "This popped up while I was working, however. I do not know if it's relevant, but—" Dickens turned to the security officer, who looked on his tablet as something came through, blipping at him. Within a minute, he looked back up at the CEO. "That's it," he replied, nodding. "That pop-up was the anomaly on this computer." Dickens Cunningham slowly turned his head back in her direction, a little smile forming on his lips. "Well. If it happens again, please let my security chief here know. I'll have the computer purged thoroughly before you go back to work again. We can't have any nasty viruses getting though to our systems, now do we?" Axelia looked at the security officer, hoping that someone in the Hackernites might know who he was. He was the head of security here at Augury, as claimed by the CEO, although the man didn't say much. Which security company did he work for? She could hear Badger's breath on the other end of her earpiece, noting how uneasy he sounded. Does he know? "Get out of there," she heard the Honey Badger say. She smiled, standing up and straightening her suit. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I must go relieve myself," she lied again, her hand on her stomach. Dickens didn't respond to her, but instead nodded and left, returning to his own desk on the other side of the hall. "Women's room is just down the hall," the security chief answered her, not once removing his eyes from hers. She didn't like how he looked at her, as if he was able to read her face so clearly that he knew she was here for a purpose. She smiled courteously before finally departing, a long, quiet breath escaping from her chest.

Finding the bathroom was quite easy, and Axelia immediately gripped onto the sink, her body suddenly weak from the stress she was under. She turned on the sink to full blast, cupping her hand under it and trying to drink it. "Badger," she began, leaning on the sink as the water dripped down her chin. "What the hell is going on?" She heard him sigh on the other end, realizing that there was more to this company that meets the eye now. Who was that security officer? What security company did he work for? There were so many questions she had, but no answers to them. Not yet, at least. The Honey Badger could be heard shuffling around on the other end, his voice echoing through to her ear. "Merryweather. They are the ones in control of security." A multitude of voices gasped loudly in surprise, other Hackernites who were just as shocked to discover this fact. The Honey Bader sounded just as shocked to learn this, despite how calm his disguised voice was. "They are one of, if not, _the_ best security companies in America, following a strict militarized playbook that we can't predict. Getting past them is like sneaking past a rabid dog whilst carrying meat. It will smell that from miles away, wake up, and give an endless chase." He paused, as if taking in the severity of the situation now. "We have got our work cut out for us." Axelia lowered her head, unable to look herself in the mirror. "I failed," she whispered, ashamed of herself and her skills. The Honey Badger gave her this task, a simple one at that she knew she could do, and she couldn't even accomplish this goal. She knew everyone was disappointed in her. "No. You had no way of knowing that Merryweather was the one behind their airtight security," Badger responded, a eerie softness to his voice. He paused again, as if observing the information before them. "We just need to outsmart them. Luckily, I have dealt with Merryweather in the past, albeit briefly." Her head lifted back up, her spirits returning as the Honey Badger explained himself. "We just need to create an additional virus that will completely shut down their systems, giving us time to expose the company's scams. This could take months to achieve, however." Axelia blinked, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

To create a virus, especially from scratch, was not an easy task. Seeing as how they were basically going up against a private army in terms of security, she knew that this journey ahead was going to be even more difficult than most other things. This isn't some small-time bank job, some easily hackable task that required no planning or thought. This was going to take months of work, months that Axelia had to spend here in this city of Los Santos. A tiny thought had occurred to her. What if she were to simply leave? Surely no one would miss her, and the other members of the Hackernites could easily take over. She suddenly remembered what the Honey Badger told her, about how she was the only one who could slip in unknowingly, who was good at acting like a normal, every day civilian. This was her strength, one that the Honey Badger knew she had. She went back to that thought. If she did leave, the Hackernites would definitely fail, and she would be the reason they failed. Despite not wanting to stay here for months and months, she knew she needed to put aside her personal feelings. The road to redemption is never easy, and she knew that. This was only the beginning of the long journey head.

"Are you still up for the task, Axel?" Badger asked her, but she already suspected that he knew the answer to that.

* * *

Two months.

Two months had past since Axelia Payton had began to work at the Augury Insurance offices. She clicked away on the keyboard as the day was coming to a close, finishing up a document before she finally was to go home. In truth, she was only inputting keywords for the Merryweather systems to identify, allowing them to believe she was working. Axelia had truly excelled at her work, even closing a few deals with clients. She hated it, however, that she had to basically lie to their faces about how Augury was going to take excellent care of them, that no accident, big or small, will deter them from their goal to help others. She wanted to tell them to truth, to get as far away from this place as quickly as possibly, to save them. But once more, she was to lead them to the slaughter than to rescue them. Just like before in her youth.  
She suddenly hears heels clicking towards her direction, inhaling a sharp breath as she knew who those heels belonged to. "Girl! You have been working nonstop!" Blaire chirped, standing before Axelia with two other female employees. She had come to learn and recognize these women over the last two months working here. They were the ones she saw all that time ago leave the building, laughing and giggling about some unknown thing. Even though she knew a little more about them, she still didn't care much for them, especially for the CEO's receptionist, Blaire Wiggums.

Blaire was nosy, and always trying to get Axelia to come away with her and her girlfriends to some event. A party, a get-together, going out for drinks, going to her house and invite male strippers. The list goes on. Blaire was also persistent, always nagging as she pushed the button to whoever she must push to get them to accept her fake, foible nature. The woman knew business, and she knew how to coerce anyone to get what she wanted. The only one she had yet to successfully coerce was Axelia Payton. Axelia didn't want to do these things, her time more focused on work and less on socializing. It was not just an act she kept up. She legitimately felt this way. Blaire sat on the desk beside her, watching her fingers clicking away with a speed she hadn't seen before. "Please?" she pleaded annoyingly. Axelia didn't even bother looking at her, still focusing on her work. "I need to finish this. Afterwards, I'm going home." The answer only caused Blaire to groan quietly, the other two women murmuring. "See? I told you she wouldn't want to come." "I know! She's such a workaholic!"

"She needs to go out and get drunk with us one night."

"Or get laid! A good lay is what helps me unwind after a long work week."

"And how many times do you lay before Monday?"

"Girl, _way_ too many to count!"

Axelia felt disgusted by the way these women chatted away behind her, her face grimacing as she had to sit there and endure it all. She was not interested in sleeping with men, or drinking, or doing any sort of activity that involved these women. She simply hated that they wanted to involve her in their affairs when she didn't want to be involved at all. Couldn't they see that she just wanted to be left alone? But Blaire wasn't having any of that. "You need a break," Blaire had suggested, leaning over to turn off the monitor Axelia was working on. She could feel her teeth grit as the receptionist does this, becoming highly irritated and annoyed. Now she definitely wanted to go home. "Come with us tonight! There's this new hot club now in Vespucci! Maisonette Los Santos, they call it." She leaned down to look Axelia in the face, an overconfident smile gracing her bubbly features. "And there'll be a bunch of cute guys there! Come on! What do you say?" The other two girls began to beg and plead to Axelia to go with them as well, the term 'girls night' being repeated over and over again. Blaire batted her eyelashes adorably, trying to coerce Axelia to come along. She honestly didn't want to. These women were not her friends, despite being nothing but simply chatty with her. She didn't like people hanging around her while she was working, and especially not now, when she was there for an entirely different purpose. "I have so much work to do, Blaire," she replied, turning her monitor back on. "I'm sorry. Maybe another time." The monitor is turned off again by the rebellious woman, ignoring her claims as she leans down in front of her again. "You need to relax, girl! You're so uptight! And I just _know_ that there's a bunch of cute guys at the club! Maybe you could take one home for the weekend, have a little fun before work on Monday." The bubbly receptionist's singsong voice continued to poke at the nerve Axelia could feel building inside her, but she forced to restrain herself from any sudden outbursts to avoid suspicion. There was no way this woman was going to let this go, either. For the first time, Axelia was left with a dilemma on socializing with these employees. They wanted her to come with them to a nightclub, to dance away their worries and stress, and meet men there to bring home for the night. It was not her ideal outing. In fact, she was a simple woman, with simple tastes. She didn't like partying or going out as much, and rather enjoyed the comfort and safety of her apartment.

She had two choices now: either ignore the woman and have this encounter happen again later down the line, or accept the invitation in hopes that it'll shut Blaire up and leave her alone in the future.

Ultimately, she knew what the answer was. She just couldn't believe she was actually doing it.

"Fine."

She was going to regret this.

Blaire Wiggums squealed excitedly along with the other two women, all three giggling happily as they shout, "Girls night!" Blaire tapped Axelia's shoulder playfully, doing a little dance. "I'll pick you up at 7pm sharp! Get a cute little dress on, and show off those sexy legs we know you have, girl!" The women began to walk away, all of them dancing to silent club music as they finally departed, causing the now disheartened Axelia to drop her head into her hands, a long, tiring sigh leaving her. She hated this place, hated having to deal with people she didn't care much for. She knew she was doing a job, one that required her to fit in with these office types, but she still didn't like it. She wanted to go home and sleep, to enjoy her next two days away from this hellhole before returning to it on Monday. "It's just one night," she whispered to herself, sighing again. She had to remind herself that this is only temporary, that this would be the only night where she had to do what Blaire wanted to satisfy some unknown quota the woman had. That didn't mean she didn't regret her decision any more than she already did. It was moments like this where she wished she had her earpiece in, listening to the Hackernites talk to her about anything that'll take her mind off this. But the earpiece was drawing too much attention these last two months, and she had to abandon it to avoid suspicion. She knew that, through her glasses, they could see and hear her, possibly send her their sympathies in spirit. She just wished she could at least hear one of them tell her that it would be alright, even if it was just for a moment.

She took off her glasses and stood up, preparing to leave the office for home. She might as well make it back and get ready before it got any later, or Blaire will never let her hear the end of it. This was going to be one of the worse nights of her life.

* * *

The nightclub in Vespucci was certainly a hotspot. Within a year, the club had opened up to positive reception in the city, almost everyone from every neighborhood coming in to dance and drink the night away. Even Lazlow was known to come here, but that was just celebrity gossip. Axelia entered the club with the other three women from Augury, smoothing her little black skirt as her heels clicked with every step she took. She didn't like feeling so exposed, to have so much skin showing when she wasn't even trying to show off. But she knew Blaire wanted her to wear something revealing, and as expected, it made the woman happy. As they paid their entry fee into the club, Blaire was laughing at something one of the other women said before turning to see Axelia's outfit within the current lighting. She gasped loudly, tapping the women on their shoulders so they could see. "Girl, you look so cute! I told you guys she had killer legs!" One of the other women hummed heavily in agreement, nodding furiously. "She's got legs for _days_! You're totally walking outta here with a guy!" Axelia didn't like the sound of that. She just wanted to go home instead, curl up on her couch and watch movies all night long. Being in this club was making her uncomfortable, as many men — including those who were with a woman — were staring at her. She crossed her arms over her chest, not wanting these eyes on her as she followed the women further into the club. She had already made a plan in the car ride over here, one that she was going to clearly stick to: she was to stay for at least one drink, then make up some excuse about having to go somewhere tomorrow and needing sleep. She was not going to be here all night.  
The dance floor was flooded with people, some electronica music she didn't recognize blaring heavily through the speakers on the DJ's stage. Everyone was dancing like mad, some simply loitering in the corners or around tables with drinks. The wave of lights overhead looked like an ocean of yellow and purple, flowing rhythmically to the beat of the music that played. There were two dancers on small, neon lit pedestals, the Augury women immediately congregating towards the male counterpart of these dancers. The man had taken his shirt off, his hips swaying to the music seductively as he flashed a charming smile at them. Axelia scoffed annoyingly as she was dragged along, watching these women fawning over this young man in his tight, leather-clad pants. "Oh my god, he is _gorgeous_!" one squealed, her flowing dress twisting as her hips swayed wildly. "Hey! Are you single?! I totes need a hottie like you in my life!" Axelia felt so uncomfortable to even be associated with these women, her immediately plan to have one drink needing to be put into action. She noticed a couple people climbing up a small set of stairs next to the dancer they were watching, a thought occurring to her. She assumed that it was quieter up there, and had a bar so she can get that one drink before the night was out. Sneaking away was going to be difficult, but with the women being distracted by the dancer, she knew she had to take this chance. She tried making her way to the stairs, nearly halfway there until she heard Blaire call out to her. She wished she had missed it so she could blame the club's volume on her inability to hear her. "Where are you going, girl?" Blaire asked, having to shout over the music. "There is a cutie right here for you! Just waiting!" She turned to face the receptionist from Augury, dismissing her. "Looks like his hands are full." They both turn to see the other two women stuff cash into his pockets, both squealing with delight as he kneels down to their level to wink and lick his lips seductively. Axelia shook her head, leaning into Blaire's ear so she could hear her over the music. "I'm going to get a drink! Just go dance and have fun! I'll be fine." She walked off, hearing Blaire call out "Okay!" to her as she began to ascend the stairs to the second floor.

Upon arriving, she immediately noticed the slight change in the scenery up here on this floor. The lights were not as flashy or as glaring as most of the lights downstairs were, and had a balcony with a great view of the dance floor and DJ booth below. There were stragglers up here that looked out over the balcony, swaying their hips and bobbing themselves up and down to the music. The bar was in the far back up here, where at least two other patrons where sitting. One was a woman in a halter top and shorts, while the other was a man in a blue suit with his back turned to the crowd. Relief had washed over her at the sight, knowing that it was much more calmer up here than it was down below. Axelia approached the bar counter, sighing heavily as she flopped down exhaustingly on one of the barstools, her face in her hand. In less than ten minutes since she had arrived to this club, Axelia could already feel the immense weight grow on her shoulders. She shouldn't be here. She didn't _want_ to be here. Soon enough, though, she would be able to leave this nightclub and go home, just as she had planned. She thought about staying longer to avoid having to hear Blaire complain but at this point, she didn't care anymore.

The bartender approached her as she sat there, their voice catching her off-guard. "Hi. What can I get you?" Axelia sat up off her elbow, clearing her throat as she looked at the card with the available drinks listed. "Do you know how to make blue lagoons?" she asked, tilting her head curiously. The blue lagoon cocktail was one of her favorite drinks she ever had, her favorite that reminded her so much of Vice City. It was one of her first drinks she had when she came of age to drink legally, remembering how the vodka in it burned her nose a little, but was dulled by the bitter taste of the lemonade. It was served in a large, elegantly-shaped glass, garnished with raspberries and blueberries that she would mix into the drink before taking a sip. She had hoped that the bartenders here knew how to make it, for it was the little slice of home she so desperately needed. "Is that what you want, sweetie?" the female bartender asked, grabbing a glass and cleaning it. As Axelia was about to respond, she heard the voices of women laughing behind her, their heels clicking quickly toward her direction. "Oh my god, girl! This club is amaze-balls!" Axelia's head fell into her hand. "That dancer down there, Jacob?" one of the women asked, her hands flying to her heart. "Oh! He is a _dreamboat_! He said he was going to take me home, and give me the time of my _life_! I'm so excited, I could drink everything at this bar!" They clambered towards her, laughing as they finally made it to Axelia's side. The silence that she had hoped for was now gone, replaced by the obnoxious sounds of the Augury women as they talked about the male dancer downstairs.  
She knew it was a good time to try and bail out of here. She had to find a way. "Hey!" Blaire called the other bartender, motioning towards the group of girls. "A round of fresh fruit cocktails for me and my girls, handsome!" The male bartender smiled, getting to work on the cocktails as ordered. "Oh, uh... no thanks," Axelia shrugged, her voice soft. "I don't want that to dri—" "Don't be silly!" one of the women said, her arms around Axelia's shoulders. "Tonight, we drink! And then, we dance!" They hollered excitedly, each doing a little dance as the bartender came over. He handed each of the women their cocktails as ordered, with Blaire stuffing a one-hundred dollar bill in his breast pocket with a wink. The hacker begrudgingly accepted her cocktail, holding it with a half-hearted smile. "To girls night!" They all cheered, each toasting their glasses together and drinking it right up. Axelia took a sip of hers, her eyes scrunching up as the taste hits her tongue. The fresh fruit cocktail was incredibly sweet, pleasantly so, but not at all what she wanted. She wanted that shot of vodka, that bitter taste from the lemonade, just the reminder of her hometown of Vice City in general. She wasn't happy with the way this night was turning out. But at least she had her one drink. Now she can make that excuse, and get out of here. Just trying to find the right time to tell these women that she had to bail was another. She knew that if she didn't tell them now, she was never going to get out of here at all. It was then the female bartender from before suddenly places a blue lagoon in front of her, causing her to perk up alarmingly. "Oo! I didn't realize you ordered before us!" Blaire chirped. Obviously this was some sort of mistake. Even if it was what she wanted, why did this woman just give it to her? She couldn't have read her mind. That's impossible! As she remembered from before, she never even told the woman that she wanted it, only if they could make it. "Excuse me," Axelia called the bartender. "There must be a mistake. I didn't order this." The woman tending the bar gave her a cheeky grin, wiping a glass with a rag after gesturing over her shoulder. "Compliments from the older gentleman in the blue suit."

An older gentleman?

Axelia turned her gaze in the direction the bartender pointed to, noting that — indeed — there was an older man sitting there, gazing back at her from the far end of the bar. It took a moment to recognize that this was the same man she saw before, with his back turned to the crowd. She blinked as his features came into view, his long, slicked back hair complemented with the thick stubble created a rather rugged, but almost charming composition to the man's aged face. His nicely pressed blue suit looked deprived of any wrinkles, the black sports vest he wore buttoned up neatly, creating a snug fit against the man's figure. He smiled handsomely as he raised his shot glass full of whiskey, the simple gesture causing her heart to leap up in her throat. Here was a random stranger, someone she had no inkling of knowing, personally ordering and paying her a drink, and one that she wanted no less. She remembered that she was only going to get one drink, to get in and out of this club as soon as she could to avoid confrontation with people she wasn't in the mood to deal with. But she — for some unknown reason — did not feel compelled to leave when it came to this man. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, a smile finally gracing her own glossed lips as she shyly shrugs a shoulder to try and hide it from him. His stern eyes continued to kindly gaze back at her, never breaking contact with her as he raised his whiskey glass to his lips. She couldn't remove her own eyes from the older man, which fluttered back up to continue holding that gaze as her finger delicately swirled around the rim of her newly acquired glass. Whoever this mysterious stranger was, Axelia had this distinct feeling that she was soon going to find out, as she could feel her body react before her mind could catch up to her.


	2. A Retired Jewelry Thief

Michael De Santa was a simple man. Or at least, he'd like to think he was, nowadays. However, his life was anything but simple. It was utter chaos for a time, and he was in the center of it all. He was a retired criminal, but still seemed to find ways to get into trouble when Trevor and Franklin are involved. Well, mostly Trevor. The man seemed to live for chaos. Whereas Trevor was a man of insanity and acted out of spite, Michael was more thoughtful and planned accordingly. He took his time when it came to their next big heist, and when they did successfully pull it off, it usually it would be thanks to his amazing planning skills. There were times Trevor did surprise him, however, like back when they did that job in Paleto Bay. But those days were behind him. He claimed he was too old for this, that it was time to put it all down and live with the benefits he's earned from that last big score. He should've just quit while he had a good thing going for him after he sold Trevor and Brad out years ago, which he did, for a time, but it made his life miserable. It wouldn't be until ten years later when Trevor found him again, that the cycle would begin anew. It felt good for a while. He felt he was reliving his glory days with them. He did finally manage to retired for real, however, after they had disposed of Devin Weston, the scum who was going to force Franklin to choose between killing Trevor, or killing Michael. Luckily, the boy had a deathwish, and they all worked together to take down their enemies, saving Devin Weston for last. Retirement was good since then, and his life was actually improving. One could say Michael was finally at peace with himself, and with all that he had done in his life, knowing the words for them.

But peace can only last so long.

Michael heard the alarm before he heard her voice, the voice of his wife talking to someone on the phone in the hallway. It was hard to decipher who it was she was talking to, but it didn't matter. Michael trusted Amanda entirely. Last year, they had a very rough and rocky relationship, one where she ended up leaving Michael for a time. But that was all in the past now. They worked out their differences, getting the family back together, and since then, life had improved. Tracey went to college and is now already starting her second year, and Jimmy had gotten a job doing what he loved: working at a video game store that loved his passion for competitive gaming. Both children finally moved out, as well, thanks to a little help from Dad, of course. Tracey lives in a quaint little house up in Vinewood Hills, and Jimmy had landed himself a pretty nifty apartment on Prosperity Street. Both were doing well, and were happy with the lives they had. It was hard to let them go, to finally move out and live their own lives, but Michael knew it was time for them. He and Amanda did everything they could to help teach their children how to survive, even if their parenting skills were questionable at times. He had a feeling that they would be just fine on their own now. They were ready to face the world, and give it a little spice of their own. And Michael and Amanda? They were living their married life together so peacefully now, that one could say it was almost too perfect. They had more time to spend together, more time to play tennis, to watch movies, to snuggle in bed together. Michael remembered why he fell in love with Amanda all those years ago, as their time alone together reminded him of it all. There were days he wondered if Amanda had similar thoughts, moments when she sat back and reminisced about their days together. He shouldn't doubt her. She was his wife, after all, and their past transgressions were behind them.

Michael sat up in the bed, stretching lazily as he yawned. The voice of Kenny Loggins filled the room, wishing everyone a beautiful good morning before _Radio Ga Ga_ began to play. His hand subconsciously went to the small nightstand next to his side of the bed, routinely turning off his morning alarm, but was instead greeted with the discovery of his radio missing. It took a moment, but his memory of last night was returning, as he realized that he left his radio over on the small desk across the room. "Forgot I set it over there," he said, groggily. Michael stood up from his bed, yawning again as he scratched his stomach and made his way over to the radio. He had set it up across the room in hopes that it would help him get moving in the morning, as the man usually hits the snooze button and falls back asleep again. A bit of movement to get the day going sounded like a great idea at the time. He lightly slams his hand down on the snooze button, stretching with a long, satisfying groan. He was sure it was going to be a good morning. In fact, today was going to be great. This was the day he and Jimmy were going to spend time together on their day off from work. He wondered what they were going to do today. "Michael? You up?"  
Amanda called from beyond the bedroom door, which she opened upon calling. He smiled as he saw her, coming over to kiss her cheek. "Well look who's up and lookin' beautiful. Mornin', honey." Amanda shrugs her shoulder with a tiny smile. "I guess." He pulled away from her, a brow raised. "What are you talkin' about, Mand? Don't you think it's gonna be a nice day, too?" She sighs, leaning against the door frame with a shake of her head. "It just feels like one of those days, you know? Like nothing extraordinary is going to happen." Michael wasn't sure why Amanda was talking like this. Normally, she was always cheerful about how she was going to spend the day. Was there some pressing matter on her mind that he didn't know about? "Amanda. If something's bothering you—" His wife waved her hand dismissively, shaking her head again. "It's nothing, Michael. I'm sure I'll figure it out." She peered over at him and smiled, approaching him to run her hands over his chest. "Don't worry, honey. I'll be fine." She kissed his cheek, causing her husband to smile. Michael couldn't argue with her. He didn't want to seem like he was overtly controlling of her. She deserved the freedom she so desperately needed from him some days. He wanted her to enjoy the day all to herself, as he knew that there were days that she needed to be away from him. He understood that.

He nodded his head, taking a hold of her hands upon his chest. "Okay, baby. You know better than me." His wife smiled before pulling away, moving over towards her vanity to fiddle with her hair in the mirror. "So what are you going to do today?" she asked, her brow arching curiously. Michael groaned as he took a deep breath, making his way over to their walk-in closet. He did have a plan for today, and that was to spend it with Jimmy. He remembered that their son had texted him the night before, claiming that there was something big he wanted to talk about. "I was thinkin' about going to see Jimmy. He texted me last night, said he wanted to talk." He searched through his clothes, moving hanger after hanger of suits before finally coming across his button-up t-shirts. He removed his tank top, discarding it in the laundry basket behind him and fetching a fresh white undershirt from the drawer beside him. "Oh yeah?" his wife called from the next room. "What does he want to talk about?" "Dunno. Didn't say," he called back, taking the button-up shirt from the rack before searching for some shorts. Today looked like it was going to be a hot one, and knowing him, he would wound up at the beach before the day was out. Maybe Jimmy would come with him before the sun went down, and walk along the sand before heading home. "Might have somethin' to do with his job. He seemed really excited about it. The boy had over a dozen exclamation marks in that text." Amanda laughed at what Michael said, causing him to smile. He loved hearing that laugh of hers. It was so familiar to his ears. "What are you gonna do afterwards?" The question she asked caught him a bit off-guard, his mind now reeling at the thought. What _was_ he going to do after meeting up with Jimmy?

He had spent the whole day with Tracey yesterday, his sweet daughter trying to show her father how much better at cooking she had gotten. A tiny grin came to him as he thought about that incident, remembering how upset she was when everything she baked for him had burnt to a crisp. He had hugged her tightly, telling her that he was still so proud of her for trying. They attempted to cook a meal together after that, and ended up making a big mess in the process. He remembered them sitting on the floor by the oven, hearing his daughter tell him that she had the best day of her life that night, just spending it with her father while they failed miserably at cooking together. He remembered how ecstatic he felt upon hearing her say that, leaning over to kiss her on the head before laying his head upon hers. Michael's relationship with his daughter was still a bit rough around the edges some days, but that day gave him hope. He thought that, perhaps, he would have a similar experience with Jimmy. He wanted to spend the day with his son, to try and make it the best day of his life before they had to go back to their daily lives afterwards. It seemed like a plausible plan, and one he was willing to stick to.  
"I think I'll just hang out with him all day," he finally answered, pulling out his blue shorts from a drawer. "I spent all day with Tracey yesterday. He deserves that much from me. Maybe we'll finally throw the ball around." "Michael," Amanda groaned from the other room. "You know he hates when you bring that up. Even with him successfully completing fat camp, he won't want to play football." Michael felt discouraged at his wife's words. She wasn't entirely wrong, however. Jimmy did post on his Lifeinvader page last year about how much he hated his father for suggesting that exact term. They didn't think that he would check out their social media pages back then, but he did, in hopes that he could come to understand his family better. He suspected that Amanda had to be right about this. She was the mother to their children, after all. Of course she would be right.  
"You're right. I won't bring it up when I go see him," Michael replied, finally exiting their closet. "I'm gonna hop in the shower, and get goin'. The sooner I leave to see him, the sooner we can get this father/son thing started." Amanda was applying mascara in the mirror, replying with a simple "uh-huh" before continuing with eyeliner next. "I'll be back before the sun goes down all the way. Don't worry, baby," he said, standing by their bedroom door.

Michael wanted to reassure her that he truly was going to spend the day with just their son, and not go anywhere else. He knew he didn't need to, but felt compelled to let her know anyway. Perhaps it was because of the things they did behind each other's backs last year, and he wanted her to know that he wasn't going to do any of that. Either way, it had become a bit of a habit to him by now. She replied with a nod, still fixing her makeup in the mirror. "The new gardener we hired last month will be here again tomorrow," she said suddenly, blinking frantically when she finished applying her eyeliner. "I still can't believe Carlos moved away from Los Santos. He did such great work on the yard," Michael replied back, shifting his weight as he stood by their bedroom door. "But you said the ladies at work swear by this new guy, so... he must be pretty good." "Incredibly good," Amanda corrected him, putting her makeup away in her kit on the dresser. "You'll get to meet him tomorrow. He desperately wants to meet you." Michael nodded his head in reply, coming over to kiss his wife on the head.  
"You look incredible, by the way," he whispered with a smile, looking at her through their reflection in the mirror. He couldn't help but stare so lovingly at the woman he saw before him, that warm smile still gracing the old man's lips as he sighs happily. "I mean it, Mandy. You look beautiful." She looked away from the mirror, avoiding his eyes. Michael noticed an expression contorting on her face, one that he couldn't seem to read. Was she feeling bashful? He wouldn't blame her. He loved letting her to know how beautiful she looked in this moment, like every moment he ever saw her. It was cute to see her like this. "You better hurry up," she replied suddenly, grabbing her hairbrush. "You don't want to keep Jimmy waiting." Michael hummed in reply, standing back up straight. "I'll text ya when I get to his place," he said, finally exiting to bedroom to make his way to the shower across from Tracey's old room.

Amanda was right about this. If he sat there staring at his wife all day, he would've never left home. While the thought of spending the day with Amanda was very enticing, he knew even his wife needed the space. She deserved it after the two of them went to that big dinner date with the other members of the movie studio he worked for. It only made sense. As he turned on the shower and stepped in, he could only imagine how his day with Jimmy would go. Hopefully the boy would like what he had planned. He would retain from asking if he wanted to play football, and instead, ask if he was up for a round in one of his favorite video games. Sure, Michael was incredibly awful at playing them, but he was not going to let that stop him. Anything to make his son happy today. That's all that mattered to him as a father.

* * *

"Dad! You actually came!"

"Told you I would, Jimbo! Damn, you're lookin' good."

The men had a nice little laugh before Jimmy had invited his father into his apartment, prompting the older man to look around. The apartment was decently sized, with the kitchen and living room both separated by a single long countertop. His bedroom door was opened, and was obviously messy from the discarded boxers that were on display on the floor. Michael snorted a little laugh to himself, shaking his head with a smile. "Love what you've done with the place. Very _you_," he teased, patting his son's arm. The young man shrugged, shutting the door behind him. "Yeah. I had to put a lot of _me_ in the whole place. Had to make it my own thing." Michael laughed as he turned to his son, finally getting a good look at him. Fat camp had really done his son some good, as the man was now a lot more leaner than he use to be. He was obviously flabby in some places upon first glance, but the obvious muscle tones were becoming visible on Jimmy's arms as well as his face. He looked healthier and seemed happier for it. It made Michael almost feel a bit ashamed of his own gut, as he still didn't look as fit as he knew he physically was. He was still a fat, old man whenever he looked at himself in the mirror. The young man went over to the fridge, opening it with a hefty tug on the door. "Want a beer?" "Is this one laced, too, Jimbo?" Michael may have laughed a bit when he asked, but the truth of the matter was, he was still wary of accepting drinks from his son after what happened last year. Jimmy let out a dry chuckle at his father's question, grabbing the beers from the fridge and shutting it with the kick of his foot. "Very funny, old man. Just relax. I got some very big shit to tell ya." His son opened the bottles up, a satisfying smoke escaping the lip of the bottles as he brought one over to his father. Michael cautiously accepted it, his son clinking his glass against his own before taking a big swig. Michael looked at his bottle with stern eyes, sniffing it before carefully dipping his tongue into the neck of the bottle, tasting the beer and taking a moment to see if there was going to be an effect. Nothing happened. After a moment, he finally took a swig of the beer as well. It was bitter as it ran down the back of his throat, but nothing he wasn't use to drinking. Jimmy, on the other hand, let a groan emit from him as he tries to quietly clear his throat, still not use to drinking light beer.

"So," Michael began, gesturing with the bottle. "What's this big thing you wanted to tell me?" Jimmy was in mid-swig when his father brought up the subject, his finger halting him a moment. "It's freakin' huge, Pop. You won't believe it!" He gestured to his couch, offering his father a seat as he put his beer bottle down on the little coffee table in front of them. Michael had never seen Jimmy so excited like this before. The man must've been really happy about what he wanted to tell him. "Is it as big as that one time we raced home to save your mother and sister from those Merryweather assholes?" Michael suggested, the memory of that night coming back to him.

It was the night of the movie premiere for _Meltdown_, a film he helped Solomon Richards bring to life much to the dismay of the deceased Devin Weston. He and Jimmy had made it to the premiere, ready to walk down that red carpet when he learned that Devin had sent Merryweather agents to their home, moving in to kill his wife and daughter while he was away from home. He had stolen a red sports car that had pulled up that night, both him and his son speeding through the streets as quickly as he could to make it home before the men could harm his wife and daughter. He remembered the fear he felt when the gunmen held both of his girls at gunpoint, the apprehension of losing two of the most important people in his life driving every instinct in his body into overdrive. He didn't hesitate in his shots, letting the bullets riddle the men who held his girls captive and striking them dead. He was always a good shot, and never missed. There was a fear about that, however, if he ever did miss. It would've cost him everything that night, but he didn't let it demoralize him. In the end, he was successful in saving his wife and daughter, before going throughout the house to kill the other men that were there. There was no way he was going to allow anyone to hurt his family. He'd die before he allowed that to happen. Of course, even in his old age, he got sloppy and was ambushed upon his return to his wife and daughter upstairs. He thought he was done for that night. In truth, he didn't want to die, but if his death was what determined the survival of his family, he would've happily accepted the bullet. Anything to save them, to protect his family. But fate has a funny way of showing mercy to Michael, as he was miraculously rescued by his own son! He remembered how the boy had flicked off the lights, the house covered in total darkness as he stealthily sneaked up on the Merryweather agent that had put Michael down, hitting them with the brunt end of his bong. Of course, being the typical son Jimmy was, he ended up tea-bagging the soldier, just like he does in his video games he always played. Except, the man he was tea-bagging was none other than his own father.

Michael couldn't help but chuckle at the memory, noticing his son seemingly laugh as he remembered that night as well. "Aw man! Nothing _can_ top that one time I tea-bagged a mercenary! That was the best!" Michael suddenly leaned forward in his seat, cocking his head dramatically to look his son in the eye. "Jimmy," he began, his expression bewildered. "That was _me_." His son scoffed as he leaned back on the couch, lifting the beer bottle to his lips. "Pfft! I beg to differ, Father." Michael leaned back on the couch as well, an almost poised look upon his face as he peers over at his son with great curiosity. "Oh yeah?" he replied, his hands folded over his stomach. "Then why was your crotch in my face when the lights came back on that night?" Jimmy seemed to have slightly choked on his beer, a tiny cough leaving him as he struggles to find words to bite back at his father. The older man's lips slowly grew into a smug grin, knowing that he was correct once again as his son tried to find the words to respond. "Fuck, you're still a bastard sometimes, you know that?" Jimmy snorted annoyingly, shaking his head. Michael chuckled softly to himself, his pride obviously beaming as he knew he was right yet again. He couldn't help but smugly smile whenever he was victorious. He happened to like winning just as much as his son does in his video games.

The young man jumped up off the couch all of a sudden, slamming his beer bottle down on the coffee table as he moved around it. "Anyway! I got somethin' big to tell ya!" He stood before his father, his fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles almost turned white. It was obvious he had energy to burn as he was overly excited about this huge announcement he had. Michael had leaned forward, his forearms resting against his knees as he watches his son's smile grow on his face. He truly was happy about whatever this big news was, causing the older man to arch his brow "Guess who officially made employee of the month at the game store, all by himself?" Jimmy suddenly jerks his thumbs towards himself, laughing as he shouts happily; "This guy!" Michael couldn't deny that he smiled widely at his son's announcement, the older man clapping his hands to congratulate him. He was extremely proud of the boy, as he knew that this simple task was difficult for a young man like him. Jimmy hated working hard, preferring to play video games all day and not ever have to do anything. But just like Michael and Amanda, Jimmy had improved, and for the better to be named employee of the month at a video game store. It may not seem as grand as robbing banks, like in Michael's youth, but he was still proud of his son, nonetheless. He finally was making something of himself instead of sitting around.  
"Fuckin' A! That's great, son!" Michael beamed, flopping back against the couch with the smile still on his lips. "See? I told ya, a little hard work and you can make something of yourself, instead of leeching off of me." The remark caused Jimmy to laugh dryly at his father, the young man coming back over to sit back down on the couch. "I still hate having to do all that hard work, but at least we get to try out the new games when they come in." He picked up his beer and took a swig, gesturing to his game console that rested on the television stand before them. "The boss always saves one copy just for us to try! I'm sure he's technically not suppose to do that, but... whatever, right?! He's the coolest!" His father nodded his head, looking up at the game console across the room. His son was exceptionally good at playing those games. He remembered when he started playing those video games with Jimmy before he moved out, how terrible he was at playing them and constantly losing to his son. He hadn't played in a long time, so he knew he was rusty. He is reminded by what Amanda had said, about how their son hated football and wouldn't want Michael to mention it. He knew that the only way to make Jimmy's day great, was to do exactly what Jimmy wanted. He wanted his son to be happy.

"Speaking of those video games of yours," Michael began, sitting up on the couch again. "I was thinkin' we could spend the day playing one of your favorites. I mean, you've been doing so well for yourself lately, so... a little bit of gaming couldn't hurt, right?" Now it was Jimmy's turn to be surprised. The young man had scooted away from his father on the couch, looking the man up and down with wide, quizzical eyes. "Seriously? _You_ wanna play video games?" he asked his father, completely dumbfounded. Michael scoffed, waving a hand. "C'mon! I think I'm getting better at them! I could actually kick your ass this time," he proclaimed to his son, another smug look plastered upon the man's features. Jimmy immediately got riled up at the claim, the young man's face suddenly lighting up at the mention of a challenge. "Oh you are _on_, ya old bastard!"

Michael had talked big when he said he knew how to play the game, but Jimmy still showed him the controls anyway, as his father did seem to forget. It was hard to imagine a man like him, a man who had done nothing but rob banks, ran prostitution rings, and smuggled cocaine for a living, attempt to play a video game again. He was not particularly good at it, not like he was at shooting a real gun. When it came to a real firearm, there was muscle memory and a steadiness involved, a discipline that Michael had trained his mind to remember before pulling the trigger. But when it came to these video games, Michael stumbled terribly, his reflexes not as sharp as Jimmy's. They had played round after round, with Michael always losing to his talented son each and every time. There was one time Michael did actually win a match against him, but that was because Jimmy felt bad and let his father win that round. Michael had a feeling that his son basically threw that round to him, as afterwards, Jimmy was back to kicking his butt in the game like the pro he was.

It wouldn't be until about three hours later when Michael finally threw the controller at last, his side of the screen flashing the words _Righteous Slaughter _once more, indicating that his son had beaten him yet again. He was lucky that the controller didn't shatter when he tossed it, but it still didn't help that he was angry he lost again. "God fuckin' dammit!" he suddenly shouted, the anger and frustration that had built up finally unleashing. He was surprised he held it back for that long, but he was finally at his breaking point. He couldn't take another lose against his son. He knew he was a sore loser, for sure. He didn't deny it. Michael groaned as he flopped back against the couch, his arm draping over his eyes. Playing these video games could be so exhausting! How could Jimmy do it for hours on end? "You good, Pop?" he heard Jimmy ask him. The older man sighed, feeling enervated from the exhaustively intense gameplay. He actually couldn't believe he lost his cool after all this time. It wasn't embarrassing, but it did make the man feel even more awful. Already he felt as if he was ruining his son's day with his personal anger issues. "Yeah. Sorry about that, Jimbo," Michael replies, his arm falling to his side. "You're just so good at this game. I'll never figure it out. Like, one minute, I think I got it, as if I'm really there, but then..." He groans frustratingly as he tries to explain, the words escaping him. He didn't know how to tell his son exactly what he was feeling. If there was one thing Michael still needed to work on, it was expressing his feelings. And not his feelings of anger, but his genuine feelings, the ones that actually came from that place in his heart. But once more, like every other time, the words were lost in the space between them. There was no way he was going to find them now, no matter how long he would search for them.

The older man sighed again, patting his son on the leg. "Anyway, uh... you hungry, Jim? We can grab a bite to eat, and get back to the game after." He stood up, shuffling his way into the kitchen in search of some food. He was starting to feel a bit famished. He knew Jimmy had to be, too. As he opened his son's fridge to see what kind of food he had, he heard his voice. "Dad." Jimmy's voice was oddly soft as he spoke. It forced Michael to look back at his son from the kitchen, his eyes wide with curiosity as to what was bothering him. Was he finally annoyed by his father's presence? He wouldn't blame Jimmy if that were the case. He couldn't deny that he did get pretty heated when he played these games, and that he did feel like a sore loser at times. Was Jimmy fed up with him? Did he want his father to leave? Jimmy turned off his console and the television with the controller and remote respectively, slowly placing both objects down on the tiny coffee table in front of him. He seemed to be deep in thought, his hands folding together as he takes a deep, long sigh. "You wanna... I mean..." Jimmy was exactly like his father, in some cases. Both men had a very hard time expressing how they felt about things. Whereas Jimmy would ramble on and on with sometimes meaningless words, Michael's were always lost somewhere in the ocean between. Which was why he was surprised when Jimmy eventually did find the words, the young man standing up from the couch to gaze his father in the face.

"You wanna toss the ball around, instead?"

Michael was taken aback. Was his son seriously suggesting that they go out and play football instead of video games? Didn't Amanda say that their son wouldn't want anything to do with that? He could've sworn he never even mentioned football at all since he got here, or the term 'throw the ball around' in his son's presence. This had to be some sort of dream, right? "Jim, I— Really?" Michael asked, completely flabbergasted. Jimmy seemed to have shrugged, his voice still soft. "I mean, fuck, if you don't want to, Dad, I get it. I just thought we should—" "No, no, Jimmy, I—" Michael laughed as he returned to his son's side, placing his hands on his shoulders. He knew he was smiling, and couldn't hide that fact. He just couldn't believe that Jimmy — his own son — was suggesting they go out and play football together. "If that's what _you_ wanna do, Jimmy, I'd be happy to! I would love to throw the ball around!" He could feel his smile slowly fade from his lips suddenly, a thought nagging at him.

Was this what his son really wanted? He wasn't suggesting this because he felt it was what his father wanted, right? He had hoped not. He didn't want to do that to Jimmy. The boy deserved better. Michael blinked a bit, looking his son in the eye. "But Jimbo... I don't mind if you really wanna just play these video games all day today. Seriously." He swallowed hard, thinking just as equally hard on his words. "I-I know I ain't the best at 'em, and I'll always lose and get frustrated about it." Jimmy snorted a laugh, nodding his head in agreement. At least they both agreed on that. "But spendin' time with ya is all I care about, son. I wanna do what _you_ wanna do. Even if I hate it. No bullshit." Jimmy smiled a bit, slowly looking up at his father. What was he thinking inside that head of his? He really wished he knew, as Jimmy was one that was particularly difficult to read at times. When he thought he understood him, his son would then do something else to confuse him even more. It was the way the chemistry between them worked. It was an odd thing, but it was one that only the two of them understood.  
Jimmy let out a sigh, looking his father directly into his blue eyes. "Dad," his son began, his voice serious as he spoke. "I'm tellin' ya. I _really_ wanna throw the ball around. As weird as that shit sounds comin' from me." Michael could not believe what he was hearing, even after a second time. Was this boy really his son? He observed his features carefully, trying to be sure that this young man was indeed his son. The tattoos on his arms were still the same, his frizzled red hair atop his head was the same as always, his face was still the same, albeit more leaner now, even down to the neck tattoo which read 'entitled' was still the same. There was no denying that he was Michael's son, but this behavior from him was so much more different than what he was use to. Was this the same little boy that Michael had taken to the beach in his youth? The very same one he took to build sandcastles before he grew into the man he is today? This caused the older man to blink frantically as he still gazed on at his son, his chest swelling with that familiar feeling he felt with Tracey just yesterday. He knew it wasn't anything special to any other person they knew, but it still made him feel as if he had done something right within the last year. Not only had he grown as a father and a husband, but his son had grown alongside him, becoming even better than he was already, to some extent.

Michael smiled as he suddenly hugged his son tightly, the young man hesitating before doing the same in return. It was a wonderful feeling, to see how much his son had improved over the last year. It was a long and difficult journey, but one Jimmy still went through, and turned out better for it. He couldn't have been more proud of his son, and that was a rare thing to feel, indeed. "Okay Dad, this hugging thing is getting kinda awkward," Jimmy warned him, tapping his father's shoulder. The older man laughs heartily, pulling away from his son and patting his shoulders. "Alright, son, alright. No more hugging. Promise." Both men backed off from one another, Michael tapping his son's arm gently as he gestures with his head. "Let's eat something before we go, okay? I'm starving." "Sounds good," Jimmy agreed, following his father before stopping him. "And hey Pop?" The older man looked over at him, a brow arching slightly. His son smiled smugly, folding his arms over his chest. "Today's my cheat day." Michael let out a chuckle, digging into his short's pocket to retrieve his car keys. "Let's grab a burger then. My treat. Just... go easy on those 'special' sodas, alright?"

* * *

The sunset on the beach was as gorgeous as the millions of sparkles that reflected off the ocean. It was a sight that Michael couldn't get enough of every time he saw it. He loved lounging by the pool in the sunlight some days, drinking his whiskey and reading movie scripts, but it didn't compare to the beauty he saw here. He loved coming to the beach some days, and watch the sun go down behind that water. It was those last few rays of light he happened to like the most. It was as if they wanted to escape somewhere, or catch their own last glimpse of this city before disappearing until tomorrow. It was a prefect setting for a movie, which was why he seemed to enjoy it so much. Michael always had a keen eye when it came to a good movie, especially with how much he loved watching them. It was a good skill to have, now that he officially works at the Richards Majestic movie studio. His life-long dream finally became a reality, and this sunset reminded him of it.

Today truly was a good day.

"How's Mom?"

Michael was snapped back to reality by Jimmy's voice, which called to him as he waited for his father to toss the football. They were doing small throws back and forth with the sports ball, spending the majority of the afternoon here at the beach together. He had almost completely lost track of time, not even realizing that they had spent hours out here throwing the football back and forth. It made his lips curve into a tiny smile as he adjusted his sunglasses on his face. "She's good, I think," Michael finally responded, throwing the ball overhead. "She can't seem to find things to do around the house, now that you two moved out. I like to believe she misses you guys." "Want us to move back in?" He could've sworn that he heard a hint of hopefulness in his son's voice, recognizing that the boy really did miss home just as much as they missed them. However, Michael knew that his son really did like to finally have his independence. He simply shook his head, grinning at Jimmy as he had thrown the ball back to his father. "Of course, Jimmy," Michael began to jest. "Then you can start doing chores around the house, like take out the trash, wash the dishes, and—" "I was joking, you dick!" Jimmy groaned annoyingly. Michael laughed, throwing the ball back to his son who promptly caught it. "Besides, I like this independent thing, even if it _is_ hard. I learned that from before..." His father nodded his head in reply, remembering the last time he went with his son to the nearby Burger Shot to meet up with his son's drug dealer.

It was the first and last time Michael ever accepted a drink from his son, as the boy had it laced with ketamine, a "gift" from his friendly, neighborhood drug dealer. Michael remembered almost next to nothing from that day, only his son kicking him out of his car, and stealing it. Then he had some sort of dream, with aliens and some sort of other space nonsense he barely remembered. He did remember there were monkeys at first, and then aliens that had tossed him out of their flying saucer, sending him flailing through the air as he fell back down to Los Santos, an echo of numerous voices ringing in his ears. The colors and lights from the city were so pretty that night. He wanted to fly forever, to soar like a bird and never come back down. But as Sir Isaac Newton once discovered when the apple had fallen on his head, gravity was a powerful force. What goes up, must come down. He remembered waking up in someone's yard, wearing only his boxers with no recollection of what had happened prior to the dream. He had no idea what he had physically went through in the real world, nor did he ever want to find out. He would've been too ashamed if it was something entirely not in his own control. When he did finally make it back home, still struggling from the final stages of the ketamine, Amanda had left him a note. She believed that he had finally lost his mind, especially from before he was drugged when he attacked her then yoga instructor. She also believed that he willingly took drugs while driving with Jimmy, when in truth, he didn't even know the soda had been laced with the drug. She was already out of the house when he returned home that day, leaving him to stand in nothing but his boxers with that piece of paper, still trying to make sense as to what had happened to him, and where he went wrong. A lot of things had gone wrong that day, things that made absolutely no sense to Michael.

Even with their family reunited and fully recovered since those events, and even improving over the past year, Michael was still cautious when it came to accepting certain things from Jimmy. Especially any jumbo sized soda cups from Burger Shot.

"Right. The day you drugged me and stole my car," Michael snorted, shaking his head from the foggy memory. "That was _one_ time, Pop!" Jimmy retorted, forcefully throwing the ball back to his father. The older man caught it, but it did cause him to lightly stagger a bit. "I learned my lesson afterwards! I also learned that your car, even with all the modifications I added, is _still_ an old man's car. You're still driving that fuckin' thing, too!" Michael smiled as a laugh escaped him, throwing the ball back again. "I love and forgive you, too, son." Jimmy had jumped to catch the football his father tossed back, waving his hand dismissively at his father's comment.

The youth Michael had experienced was not glamorous as his children's lives were today, nor was he as lucky with the things that they have now, compared to when he was growing up. He wasn't born into a fancy house, with fancy cars, and a fancy lifestyle. Michael was the son of a prostitute and an angry, mostly drunken man, one whom he only slightly remembered. The man was barely in his life at all, and every time he spoke about him, the stories changed. He never really knew where the drunkard ended up in the end, but in a way, he also was glad he didn't know. There was a thought Michael had had, about the one thing that he knew he wanted to do differently from his own father. The most vivid memory he had of his drunken father was the beatings. Michael swore to himself that he'd treat his kids better than he was treated. He remembered how his father would beat him when he was sober, beating him even harder when he was drunk, before he disappeared to God knows where. He had told Michael that he would never amount up to anything, something he also thought of Jimmy at one time — a trait from his abusive father, no doubt. Even when he started practicing sports, taking tennis classes as a child, and even making the football team in high school, becoming a quarterback, his father was never short of disappointment. A lot of Michael's anger did come from that man, even his heavy drinking problem at times. But the one thing he refused to do was hit his own children, unlike his father did to him. He could destroy their televisions, refuse to let them embarrass themselves on some competition show, even intimidate them with his angry demeanor, but never would he lay a finger on his kids. Michael was _not_ going to be like his father was. And so far, he had done well by that.

"Are you and mom doing okay?" Jimmy suddenly asked, taking Michael from his thoughts once more. He was holding the ball in his hands, approaching his father with concern in his eyes. "Hm? Oh yeah. We're fine," Michael replied, adjusting his sunglasses upon his face. His son was standing beside him now, gently tossing the ball in his hands. "I find us ways to stay busy together, and when I'm outta the house, she does her own thing. I trust your mother, Jimmy." The young man nodded, finally tossing the ball to his father. "I've been doing really well lately," Michael proclaimed, holding the football firmly and chuckling. "Or... I'd like to think I am, anyway." "That's true. You haven't been to the strip club in over a year," Jimmy remarked, nodding affirmatively.  
The thing about Michael and his history with the gentleman establishment known as the Vanilla Unicorn was not at all what most people believed. Yes, the man had a membership there, and was well known by the local bouncers and ladies. However, the man did nothing more than accept a few dances and drinks. But why did he frequent this establishment in the past? In all honesty, when he and Amanda ever got into a fight over some pitiful thing or another, Michael would come here to relieve his stress, to watch the girls as they attentively entertained him with a dance. He didn't care for their life stories or even trying to get into bed with them. If Michael was one thing, he was faithful to Amanda when _she_ was the one who slept around, although his family believed he did this, too. Visiting the establishment stretched this faithfulness many times, but Michael honestly didn't care for sleeping with the woman at the gentleman's club. The girls were all in their twenties, the same age as his own daughter, Tracey. He found that alone distasteful, which was why he never slept around, even when Amanda did it openly. As the year went on, however, and Amanda and Michael mended their relationship together, the visits to the Vanilla Unicorn stopped. He isn't even sure if his membership is still active, seeing as Trevor 'owns' the establishment and would make sure it is, but either way, he didn't care. He was happy with Amanda now, and nothing could change that for him.

Michael finally snorted at the remark, looking his son in the eyes seriously. "That's because I love your mother," he said, wagging his finger. "Back then, we all were fuckin' terrible. Yes, I'll admit I was the shittiest one at times—" Jimmy seemed to heavily agree on this one, his head nodding almost vigorously "—but look at us now. We're better. Not perfect, no, but better. And that's all I want for us, Jimbo." Michael tossed the ball back to his son, who fondled with it thoughtfully as he took a deep sigh. What was the boy thinking about now? He couldn't still need convincing after all that? Michael knew he wasn't the best with words at times, but he thought that he did pretty good. He was honest, at least. "Dad." Jimmy's voice was, once again, serious and soft. It nearly shocked Michael every time he heard it, as he wasn't use to his son being so serious before. "What if Uncle T and Franklin—" Michael felt the pit of his stomach churn at the mention of his friends, the two men who had become his brothers-in-arms. The two men who were also criminals. Criminals just like Michael was. Jimmy scoffed annoyingly to himself, the words becoming hard to find for him until they were found. "Well what if they needed your help again? You've officially retired, right? For good?" Michael approached his son carefully, a gentle smile leaving the older man's lips as his firm hand found Jimmy's shoulder.

"Son. If they need me, then... well, I'll just tell them that I've retired, like I said. They don't need an old man like me no more. I'll just slow 'em down."

That was a lie.

Michael felt that his son could sense that, but knew that he only lied because Michael couldn't hurt his son with the truth. In all honesty, if Trevor or Franklin really needed him again, even if it was so dangerous that he would end up dead, he'd still be there for them. That's what friends are for, right? Funny how that works. Jimmy stared into his father's eyes for a long time before blinking away, sighing. "I guess... you know best." Michael suddenly felt a ping of pain in his chest, coming to the conclusion that his false claim was obvious to his son. He hated lying to him now, especially after all this, but he was trying to think of what was best for Jimmy. He couldn't hurt the boy anymore than he had already hurt him in the past.

"Okay Dad." Jimmy puts the football in his father's hands suddenly, confusing the man. "Throw the ball. Like, _really_ throw it!" Michael's eyes went from the ball to his son, the realization suddenly dawning on him. Michael use to always talk about his younger days to his children, especially to his son (much to his dismay) when it came to sports. In high school, football was the sport that he had learned and became quite good at it. If he hadn't fallen into the life he has now, he probably could've made a career out of it, but fate was not kind to him. Michael's father didn't seem to actually care about this accomplishment, however, and continued to bash him with cruel words and equally cruel fists. But Michael was proud of that time, despite it all. To think that Jimmy still remembered his past glory would bring a smile to the older man's lips. "Oh? Like back in my high school days?" Michael gently tossed the ball in his hands. "I dunno if I've got the strength, Jimbo, but I'll try." Jimmy groaned in slight annoyance, planting his feet firmly in the sand before shouting back, "C'mon! Don't be such a pussy, old man! Throw it for real, already!" This caused his father to laugh, steadying his own footing in the sand as he held the football firm in his hands, winding up the toss for Jimmy as the young man backed away from him. "I'm going long, son!" he warned him, his quarterback instincts returning to him for a brief moment. He could feel his muscles awakening as he began his pitch, feeling it burn as he remembered how far he use to throw the football back in his youth. Within that second, Michael growled as he threw the football, the object twisting through the air like a warm knife cutting butter. His shoulder hurt a little from doing it, but he was happy despite it all. Jimmy and him were tossing the football around, actually playing football together! It was a thrilling experience, his chest swelling as he watched his son readying himself to catch the ball. He knew this son could catch it. He was a Townley, after all.

But unbeknownst to the both of them, Michael had accidentally threw the ball a little too hard, the object flying well over Jimmy's head and towards a figure of a woman in the distance. It landed in the sand beside her feet, luckily, not causing any injuries. Still, it didn't sit well with Michael. "Shit," he cursed under his breath, hoping this doesn't upset the woman for nearly hitting her. He didn't mean to throw it that hard. It just happened. "I'll get it!" Jimmy hollers to his father, jogging over to the female figure as she looks down upon the ball at her feet. Michael watched from this distance as his son seemed to have picked up the football, but didn't return right away. Was he flirting with that girl? Still trying to get a girlfriend, despite not knowing any good pickup lines yet. He would have to teach his son another day. "Hey Jimmy!" he shouted, waving his hand at his son in the distance, causing both his son and the woman to turn in his direction. It was very hard to make out the details on the girl's figure, especially with his tinted sunglasses, but he could tell she was younger than he was by the way she looked. She had long hair in a ponytail, too, which blew around from the ocean breeze. She was barefoot, her black boots held in her hand as she places the other on her hip. Was she talking to Jimmy? After a moment, his son came jogging back, waving the ball in his hand.

The older man greeted him with open arms. "There he is," he laughed as Jimmy returned, patting his son's shoulder. "What took you so long to get the ball?" Jimmy shrugged, giving his father the football. "Nothin'. I was just... Well, that lady over there wanted you to know you have a hell of a throw." Michael was confused. "Who you talkin' about, son?" Jimmy pointed over at the silhouette in the distance, the same one that his son had approached earlier when he went to go get the football. She had her back turned now, seemingly heading home, but Michael couldn't stop the smile that grew on his lips upon seeing her. "She was impressed?" he asked, barely able to make out her the rest of her features from this distance. He hadn't realized how far he had thrown the ball, let alone so far that someone would compliment on the distance. He hadn't played football since high school, but to hear that he still had a good arm at this age meant he was still good for something, right? It made his chest feel funny, but he blew it off as an adrenaline rush that was still pumping through his system. Still, hearing that this seemingly random girl was impressed made him feel good about himself. Jimmy's hand waved in front of his father's face, causing the older man to snap back to reality. "Earth to Pop. The lady ain't interested." Michael looked stunned. "What? Nah, Jimmy, c'mon. I was just surprised she said that, that's all." Jimmy didn't look impressed or convinced, his eyes narrowing as he folded his arms over his chest. "Uh-huh. It's not you were sayin' you wanna go and bang that chick, right?" Michael could feel that strange feeling in his chest again. Was his son suggesting that his father wanted to go sleep with that girl, and actually cheat on his wife? This was an oddly low blow, as the only thing Michael ever did with another woman after he married Amanda was request and pay for a dance, and nothing more. Sleeping with some other random woman that wasn't his wife was not in his nature. Maybe in the past, when he was dating her before they married, but not since the marriage. It was not in Michael's forethought to do something like that. "C'mere you little shit," he growled playfully as he wrapped his arm around his son's neck, leading both men in the opposite direction of the woman. Despite how personally attacked he felt with his son's words, he knew Jimmy only wanted to test him. So Michael figured that he should explain to the boy how he genuinely happy he feels with this life. He needed to understand it from his point of view, just like they did last year when they reunited the family again. "Y'know son. I am very happy where I am right now in my life. You and your sister have finally moved out and are on your own. Your mother and I are happy at home, spending time together like we should. Life is good now."

Jimmy suddenly stopped in his tracks, unknowingly jerking Michael to a stop as well. It caused the older man's brows to scrunch up in confusion, looking at his son to see the young man's face contour skeptically. "Is it, Dad? Is it _really _as good as you think?" Jimmy's voice was so full of doubt. It actually began to concern him.

Michael looked his son fully in the face now, standing tall as his hand firmly rests on his son's shoulder. "James. What are you asking?"

Michael never called Jimmy by his first full name unless it was extremely serious. Just hearing his father call him that was enough for the young man to tense up. There was definitely something bothering him, but he couldn't seem to get the words out fast enough to explain. "Well— I mean—" His father stood there patiently for him, very calm and cool as the young man tried to find his words. This was a extremely rare trait Michael was exhibiting, even surprising the older man when he would think back to this moment in time. "You weren't _as_ bad as Mom was back then, but—" Michael felt the pit of his stomach churn violently. He suddenly realized where this conversation was going, although he kept quiet just to be sure. Jimmy had groaned as he fought with himself to find exactly what he wanted to say to his father, the young man looking away at first before snapping his head in Michael's direction. "What if she just so happens to meet another guy like that Fabien asshole? But one that actually doesn't bore her and shit, y'know?" Michael could feel that slight anxiety he felt in his chest in the past return in full force, the very thought of Amanda cheating on him again for whatever reason actually causing the older man to pause. He knew that they had worked out their differences, Amanda and him, as well as their children that day. However, there was still that slight fear, the trepidation of Amanda possibly meeting another man that could actually give her even more than what Michael could ever offer her. He was not as young as he use to be, nor as good looking — in his own opinion. It was a thought that did legitimately scare him, especially if it was an extremely serious relationship and not some fling.  
Michael had taken a deep breath through his nose, slowly exhaling as he gently squeezed his son's shoulder. "James," he began, his voice deep yet soft as he spoke. "I _love_ your mother. Now we were both fuckin' awful back then. In some ways, maybe we still are." Jimmy lightly nodded, as if he understood that clearly enough. "But we're better now, son. We're doing so much better." "You are? For real?" The boy was obviously not convinced yet, although he did seem to be warming up to the idea. Michael pressed the football against his son's chest, a moment passing before the boy gingerly accepted it. This allowed his father to place both hands on his son's shoulders now, causing them both to have complete eye contact with one another. "Yes. Yes we are. I'd like to fuckin' think we are." Michael took a moment to think heavily on what to say next, wondering what he had to say to convince his son that everything between him and his wife were fine. He thought about the plan they had made, about what they said to one another before they went forward with their life together now. "This year, after you kids left, we made a plan. 'Out with the old, in with the new.' And we've been doing well by that." Michael took a moment again to think of a list of things they had changed in order to move forward with this plan, compiling it quickly enough to finally speak again. "Ava is still with us because there's no replacing her, honestly, but we did reorganized a lot of things. Got rid of old stuff and replaced it with something new, too. Your mother sold her old car and got a new one. I finally threw out our old tennis rackets and bought us new ones, so we can pick up a game sometime. We even hired a new gardener after Carlos left us a few months ago. He's cheap, but man does he make our yard look fantastic! Your mother's really happy about that. I realize that a pretty yard makes for a happy wife, Jimmy."

Jimmy had looked away from his father, his eyes lingering on the football in his hands. There was a lot to process here, a lot that they both had to take time to really think upon. Michael was not sure if he did a great job explaining himself. Perhaps it didn't matter. Jimmy still had his own opinions, even if he would never say them out loud. What more could the older man do or say at this point? "Well... if you really think that, Pop... I believe you." Michael could feel his chest suddenly swell, a staggering amount of relief emitting from the breath he slowly exhaled. He didn't even realize that he was holding his breath. He just didn't want Jimmy to be disappointed in him, to think that just because this random woman complimented him, that he was ready to run off with her. His son looked up at him at last, his expression hard to read. "You have been doing okay lately," he began. "I can see it, and so does Tracey. I guess what I'm trying to say is... we're actually proud of you guys. Especially you, Pop. You're even less shittier and lame than you were last year." Michael actually laughed a bit at that.  
He knew Jimmy was right, and even he wouldn't deny it. Last year, Michael was a very angry, frustrated, drunken man at times, a man who let his anger get the best of him mostly. Some of it was probably called for, but most of the time, it wasn't. And sure, most of that anger was because of his family at times, as well. Regardless of it all, Michael knew that — back then, he didn't seem to show exactly how much he did actually care. He was not good at expressing his feelings then, and had struggled all year to find a way to teach himself to show them. It was a daunting task, even for him, but over time, it worked. Michael had become a better man for it, and so had his family. They all had improved, even if there were days where they did struggle, they still came out on top for it.

"But Dad," Jimmy continued, peering between his father and the football again. "If Mom does happens to find some younger, better built, hotter guy again—" He winced at first at the mention of this, but Michael didn't react to it at all. It even surprised Jimmy with how calm his father was, making the boy relax slowly again before stammering. "Whatever you two decide to do afterwards... I just want you to know that I—" Jimmy suddenly chokes up, embarrassed that he was about to say this. The boy never really cared much for saying these words, always feeling that it was a bit wimpy and lame to speak words of affection to a man like his father. It was mostly because of his own anger and frustrations towards Michael at the time, as he was upset that he and his father couldn't see each other eye to eye. It took a long while before he was able to speak again, the words finally coming to him at long last. "I still love you guys." Michael couldn't stop the smile that sprouted on his lips, the words his son said touching his heart. He knew that those words were hard to say. They were words that meant a lot more when they were spoken genuinely, words that were more intimate when it came to his family. No one would ever understand this family, which is why they were the only ones that were truly meant for each other.  
Michael abruptly wrapped his arms around Jimmy, his hand patting his son's back. This is twice in one day he had hugged his son so tightly, even if he did promise after the first to not hug his son again. This alone could be a record! He knew that the boy wasn't use to this still, knew that all the hugging, bonding, and deep connections they were having was not normal at all. But what was normal? Normal was typical, common, ordinary. They were beyond all of that. They were not a normal family. His son awkwardly hugged him back, both men taking a moment longer before Michael pulled away at last. "Sorry. I know I promised no more hugging, son." They both laughed suddenly, the tension between them now more relaxed than ever before. "Jimmy. I swear to you," he said, smiling proudly. "Nothing like that is ever gonna happen. I love your mother, and she loves me. I don't need some side woman, and your mother doesn't need some other shmuck. All we both need is each other." Jimmy began to nod his head, smiling in return. "We're going to be fine, Jimbo. We're fine." His son sighed, his own arm wrapping around his father as they stood there together on the beach. "I know, Dad," Jimmy softly replied, still smiling. "I'm just... I'm glad we could talk like this. This day has been really weird, and I didn't realize we were gonna be doing so much... bonding? This is bonding, right?" Michael laughed boastfully, nodding his head in reply. "Yeah, I didn't realize we were gonna be doing a lot of that. But I am serious, Pop." He turned towards his father fully, taking a deep breath before putting his own hand on his father's shoulder.

"This day has been the best. No bullshit."

He did it.

"I'm glad, son."

Michael continued to hold the smile that had planted itself on his face, his chest now full of an overwhelming feeling of pure happiness. This was his goal. He wanted his son to have the best day today, a goal that was definitely difficult to achieve at first. But he prevailed, and now they were even closer to one another than he ever thought they would be. It was a beautiful sight, to see a father and his son — both who were always struggling to understand one another — become so close to understand each other now. He was never going to forget this day, and he prayed that Jimmy never forgets this day either. It was definitely one for the family history books, one that they would look back on with smiles on their faces, and joy in their hearts. It was like the perfect ending to a feel good film, an ending that left the audience feeling content with how it came to be. There was no way that they were ever going to revert back to how things would be in the past, not after this. They were both better for it now than they ever were before.

Michael patted his son's shoulder again, taking a step back to give him some space. "Now how about we head back and relax a bit? I still gotta teach you a thing or two about girls." Jimmy immediately groaned in annoyance, throwing his head back dramatically. "Aww Dad seriously?! I don't need the birds and the bees talk!" Michael laughed as he wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders, beginning to tell him the best ways to pick up girls, and how to flirt with them right as they walked back to the car. Even as he did so, he did peer back one more time to catch a glimpse of the woman that had complimented him on his throw. But the woman was nowhere in sight. There was an strange tingling in his chest. Was he disappointed that she was gone? Did he wonder if he would ever see her again? He mentally shook his head of these thoughts as they finally made it back to his Tailgater, the car bleeping at them as he unlocked it with his car keys. He shouldn't think too heavily on it. It was simply a nice compliment from a stranger, nothing more. Besides, he was happy with Amanda, and this random girl was not going to change a thing.

No matter what happens.

* * *

Michael couldn't get enough of the sight of her, of his wife as she twirled on her toes to move from one end of the kitchen to the next. She was wearing her favorite sundress, with the strap sandals she was so fond of. She looked absolutely stunning, making Michael wish that he didn't have to go into the studio today. He was enamored by her beauty, his eyes gazing so longingly at her. It caused him have a goofy looking smile upon his lips. "Michael? What are you staring at?" Her voice caught him off-guard, making the man chuckle to himself as he leaned off the kitchen island's counter top. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all," he replied, smiling handsomely. "I'm just captivated by you, you know? You're the picturesque of a Vinewood starlet, a heroine of your own movie." Amanda's face contoured quizzically, looking her husband up and down with a hint of concern. It caused the man to chuckle to himself again. "I'm sayin' you look beautiful, honey." She nodded her head as she finally understood, returning to grab a banana out from the fruit bowl on the corner of the counter top.

Even if Amanda didn't say much to him lately, Michael was still happy to spend this time with her. Sometimes the best moments were the silent ones, the moments where the air between them was still and calm. It would cause the man to lean on the kitchen island again, his face resting in his hand with a warm sigh. Amanda had peeled the banana and took a bite, not realizing that the very action had gotten her husband's mind reeling. He wondered if she knew what that did to him, what thoughts came to him when he watches her lips wrap around the fruit before taking a bite. A soft shiver trembled up his spine, another long sigh leaving him as he watches her still. What he wouldn't do to sweep her up in his arms and carry her upstairs, to show her the love and appreciation she so desperately deserved. The very idea made that tiny smile on his lips grow into an enormous grin. That would be the plan, then. He was going to get her into the mood tonight. To feel his wife's lips against his, to feel her hands touch him, her nails claw at his back, her voice whispering in his ear... Just imagining it like the perfect love scene in a movie, with soft music and mood lighting to get the viewers going. It reminded him of _Rum Runner_, one of his favorite movies from Richards Majestic. The love scene in that movie was wild, and while he was lucky he didn't have a wheelchair fetish like the hero did, he still considered that one of the most well put-together romance scenes in the whole film. The music in that scene alone is enough to get him in the mood if he and Amanda ever watched the movie together again. That would be an exciting thought, to sit on the couch with Amanda, the romance scene putting them into the mood. It was a dream he couldn't wait to achieve one day with her.

A harsh knock on the glass of their front door would snap him out of his thoughts, his head spinning towards that direction. "Who the hell is that?" He peered around the corner of the kitchen, trying to see the front door. There was somebody there, but with the way the front doors were designed, it was hard to make out who it was exactly. "That must be Jonas. The gardener I told you about yesterday," Amanda replied, already making her way to the front door. There was such a pep in her step that Michael almost struggled to keep up with her when he followed behind. "He wanted to meet you personally, remember? So make a good first impression." Amanda stood nearby as Michael stretched his neck, adjusting his black turtleneck as he approached the door. He had heard so much about this gardener, saw how good the work around the yard was, but never really did meet the man. They had hired him only a month ago, and even then, Michael never had the chance to finally shake the man's hand. Amanda definitely seemed impressed with his work around the yard, as was Michael when he finally saw it, too. He almost felt nervous at first. He wouldn't come off as some old, grouchy man, would he? No. After the day he had yesterday with Jimmy, he was confident that he was going to make a good first impression. He had to, anyhow. The man beyond this door was the same one who was tending to his yard. His stern eyes widened as he tried to put on a friendly face, finally opening the door.

Greeting him at first the back of a young man's white t-shirt, donning some logo that Michael had never seen before. It said 'Gilligan's Landscaping Services' with the picture of some cartoon sheep tending a flowerpot. It was an odd animal to choose for a company logo, but then again, sheep do eat grass, Michael thought. The figure seemed to be examining the yard before they turned around, smiling a big friendly smile in return. "Hello, Mr. De Santa. I'm Jonas Gilligan, owner of Gilligan's Landscaping. Nice to finally meet you," the man beamed eagerly, outstretching his hand. He appeared no older than in his thirties, with side-sweeping, dirty blonde hair that fell over the right side of the man's face, nearly covering his hazel green eyes. He was quite the handsome fellow, his young, clean shaven face devoid of freckles or any signs of aging. His teeth were a perfect pearly white, straighter than Michael had ever saw. Probably had braces put in as a kid. Michael accepted the customary handshake, discovering the man had a very strong grip. Even the muscles in his forearms were impressive, reacting to their manly handshake. "Nice grip," he complimented, giving the gardener a little grin. This caused the young man to chuckled bashfully, finally pulling away. "Again, I am honored to finally meet you, Mr. De Santa. Your wife has told me so much about you." Michael peered over at Amanda, who was standing by the door with the banana in her hand. She was slowly taking another bite, chewing just as equally slow as she watched to two men talk. It made Michael grin flirtatiously at her, before finally turning his attention back to the young gardener. "So am I. She also told me a great many things about you." The young man looked nervous at first, his eyes betraying his friendly smile. "Don't worry, kid. They were good things, about the yard work." This caused the man to let out a sigh of relief, his hand flying to his heart. "And here I thought maybe the missus was disappointed in my work! I've never had a dissatisfied customer yet, and I don't plan on starting now." Both men laughed, but were interrupted when a distant rumble caught them off-guard. Michael hadn't realized just how cloudy it was today, noting the heavy overcast above them. If he didn't know any better, he would say that it looked like rain. "Looks like it's gonna storm later," he declare, looking back at the young gardener with an arched brow. "You sure you'll be able to finish the yard in time?"

Jonas had looked at the overcasting clouds above, a confident grin growing on his features as he turned back towards Michael. "Sir," he began, full of pride. "Rain or shine, I am here to make your yard look fantastic." Amanda seemed utterly impressed by the young gardener's declaration, happily sighing as she leaned against the door frame. Michael was impressed as well. To hear that this gardener was willing to work in the rain was a feat that even Carlos wouldn't have done despite the large check. Granted, working in the rain might be a bad idea, as the soil would be soggy to work with, but Michael didn't know much about maintaining the yard. That's why he hired gardeners, after all. The young man looked over the yard once again, his hands finding his hips as he nods determinedly. "It already still looks good from yesterday," he continued. "I believe today would be good for a little spruce up. No extra charge." He flashed a charming grin in the married couples direction before moving to his old, green, beat up truck, removing the tools and getting right to work on the yard. Michael watched as the man had put on his working gloves and eye protection, grabbing some landscaping tool he had brought with him before tending the grass around the tree in their yard. He walked backwards until he was beside his wife, his arm finding her shoulder and bringing her close for a hug. "You know," Michael began, watching the gardener work. "He's not so bad. I think I might actually like the guy, Amand. He seems like a decent and honest kid."

Amanda was quiet for a long time, simply nodding her head as she held her empty banana peel in her hand. She, too, was watching the gardener as he worked, her expression seemingly fascinated by him. Michael wondered if he should be concerned about this, but shook his head dismissively. Amanda and him were in a healthier relationship now, and this young gardener wasn't going to change anything. He was simply here to work on the yard, nothing more. "Michael," he suddenly heard Amanda say, her face not meeting his. "Don't you have to work today?" Michael suddenly felt the pit of his stomach churn violently. "Shit." He pulled back his long sleeve to reveal his silver wristwatch, realizing the time. He was going to be late if he didn't leave now. "Oh shit! Yeah, I gotta go!" He pecked his wife's cheek before going inside to quickly grab his grayish-green coat off the chair that sat beside the stairs, immediately dashing back out the door and over to his car. He was lucky that he parked it in a place where the gardener's truck wouldn't accidentally block it, or else he'd be here forever trying to get out. "Hey kid," he called out to the gardener, who looked over in his direction. "Don't work too hard!" Jonas laughed as he waved his hand goodbye, returning to his work afterwards. Then Michael turned his attention to his wife, whom he personally saved for last to give her a special goodbye. "I love you, honey. Gonna miss you. I'll see you right after work tonight!" He threw her a quick kiss as he climbed into his Tailgater, turning the engine over with a satisfying purr before kicking it into gear. Even as he pulled out of the driveway, past the security gate that slowly opened for him, he would look in his rear view mirror to watch Amanda before she would completely disappear from view. He hated leaving her all by herself, but as he told Jimmy just yesterday, he wanted to make sure she had her personal space to herself. Now she could relax with a good book, or even attempt yoga before the rain came, or do whatever it was she did before he came home. He trusted Amanda with all his heart. He knew she wouldn't do anything with another man, especially after they worked out their differences and rekindled their love for one another. It brought a silly smile to his lips. He truly was going to give her the best night of her life in the bedroom. He wanted to, for her. She deserved so much of that. They hadn't made love in months, and Michael — while not desperately begging for it — did want to do it with his wife. He wondered if she wanted it, too.

* * *

Richards Majestic was the movie studio Michael loved every film from. It made up the majority of his childhood and young adulthood, as he was able to quote movie lines left and right in his daily life. That's what connected him to Solomon Richards. He was his inspiration in his younger years, still is as they worked on _Meltdown_ together through the terrible actors, and theft of the reel that was to be the final cut of the movie. _Meltdown_ was never suppose to even happen, but Michael made sure it did, as it was his passion to bring this movie — as well as all future movies — to life. He was named an associate producer, a role that Michael took very seriously at his job. The only thing that bothered him was that, after _Meltdown_, Solomon Richards said he would retire.

Michael stayed on after the man retired, for his love of movies was strong and there was no way he was going to quit this job now. He loved being behind the scenes, watching the movie come to life before his very eyes. And what's more, the movies — while different than to what he was use to — were actually getting good as of late. The talent was actually decent, and the content they were creating was netting the studio even more money than ever before. He can only imagine that _Meltdown_ had something to do with it all. Michael had parked his car as close as he could to the studio's main building before finally stepping out, tugging his coat collar as close to his neck as he could as the storm rolled through. The rain came down hard, loudly thumping against the metal trailers, cars, and buildings in the area as it finally arrived. The studio is only about a half an hour's drive from his home on a good day, but the weather won the race against the retired bank robber. Michael jogged up to the studio's doors as fast as he could to avoid the rain, although the rain still soaked him through and through. "Fuckin' rain," he growled to himself as he entered the building, flapping his jacket on his body. The rain flew off the coat and onto the carpet as Michael took a step further inside, greeting the new receptionist at the desk. "Hey sweetheart," he said in a friendly, charming voice. "Is Mr. Richards in?" The young woman looked up at him dully before returning to filing her fingernails, motioning her head towards the door. "Yeah, he's in." The older man quietly scoffed to himself. He did miss the old receptionist. At least she playfully bantered back, despite her being about twenty years his senior. He decided to let this interaction slide as he entered made his way towards Ira's new office, the office that once belonged to his father, Solomon Richards.

But upon entering, a very familiar old man greeted him instead, sitting in their usual spot behind the desk with their son beside them.

"Solly!"

The older man looked up at Michael, and he practically leaped out of his seat. "Michael!" The two men gave each other a hug, but Solomon suddenly pushed him back. "My heavens, you're soaked! Forget your umbrella, son?" "Yeah. Thought I could beat the rain," Michael jested, but shook his head. "What are you doin' here? I thought you retired, Solly." Ira scoffed quietly, pouring himself a glass of scotch. "He did. He's checking on how the studio's doing." The younger man threw back his head with the shot glass, gulping down the scotch in one go. Michael could sense that Ira was irritated by his father's presence. Ever since Solomon retired, Ira had done everything he possibly could to show his father that he could run this studio, show that he was very capable. And over the last year, he has done that. Ira Richards, while his methods were questionable at times, did run the Richards Majestic movie studio very well, and produced a number of very interesting films that both critics and audiences love. He wasn't sure where or how he was getting greater and greater content, but in a way, it didn't matter. The studio was thriving.  
However, it was obvious that today was going to be a bitter one for Ira, for his father was here. And speaking of— "So why are you here, exactly?" Solomon let out a little laugh, leading Michael over to the desk and grabbing a stack of mini printouts of the recent movies they have produced since _Meltdown_. "I came to see how my legacy has been thriving," Solomon replied at last. "And to be honest, I am actually very happy with the results that I am seeing, Michael. I truly am!" "Thanks, Father," Ira responded half-heartily, downing another glass of scotch. "But Michael... I feel like something is still missing," Solomon went on, wrapping his arm around the other man's shoulder. "Like... well, imagine for me, would you? A film so dark, so gritty, it will make the feint of heart even more... well, feint! A film that will not only knock their socks off, but a film that will make them have to go and change their pants!" Michael was envisioning it. He knew exactly what Solomon was implying, even if he didn't have to say it.

"Michael. What do you think about horror movies?"

Ira's head snapped towards his father's direction, his finger suddenly jabbing at some invisible thing in the air. "Oh no! The last time we attempted a horror movie, it was _awful_! We are _not _doing that again! Michael, please! Dissuade him!" Before Michael could even speak his mind, the man's father turned to him with a scoff. "Well that was _before_ I understood horror movies, Ira. I won't deny that. This is a new era! And that means we need to change some things, but also remember what made other horror movies so great. Michael?" He turned to the man beside him, who chuckled nervously as he began to think. "Well," Michael began, clearing his throat. "There was that one movie you made, _Zombies in Vinewood_, but..." He actually did put thought into what made a good horror movie, similarly to the ones he grew up watching from other studios. There were plenty, even ones from much smaller groups he remembered. _Evil Dead_, _Friday the 13th_, 1978's _Halloween_, _Nightmare on Elm Street_. All these movies had a few things in common, things that made them exceptionally good and very memorable. He looked between Ira and Solomon, finally ready to give his analysis."Well, if you wanna do a good horror movie, ya gotta have lots of suspenseful and tense moments, a bit of gore — or a lot, depending. There's also the mystery of the murderer, the 'who done it' thing. Oh! And if there's a group, they _have_ to be stupid and split up during a very intense moment. It's practically a trope nowadays."  
Solomon began to clap, overjoyed with Michael's analysis. "Correct, Michael! Every single bit of that! I have done so much research into the horror genre that I now practically feel like an expert!" "That's a stretch," Ira scoffed, but his father ignored him. The old man moved behind his desk and grabbed a huge black portfolio bag, unzipping it and pulling out its contents. Solomon had some boards with blown up images on them, stylized like a storyboard of some kind. "Ira, could you get me that thing over there, please? I gotta show you guys this!" Ira begrudgingly obeyed his father and brought over the rolling whiteboard, which his father decided to use as a stand to hold these posters on. The first one was a very lovely sketch of a group of individuals going into what looked like a graveyard, one which held a striking resemblance to an actress they actually worked with recently. Solomon moved Ira to stand beside Michael before moving over to the posters, surprising the both of them how this man was so sprightly in his old age. "Now, listen to this," he began, pointing to the first poster board, before flipping through them as he told them the premise. "A group of young, horny teens go to the cemetery, ready to make it a night they'd never forget, while another of teens are ready to pull the biggest Halloween prank yet! But, unsuspectingly, they disturb and awaken—" He pauses, gripping the board they're on and whispering, "Title card..." He flips the last poster board quickly, and reveals—

"_The Gravekeeper_!"

The final poster board revealed a very detailed sketch of the titled character, who had a hefty build, carrying a lantern in one hand, whilst wielding a sharpened shovel with his other hand, the skin on his face peeling off to reveal his skeletal structure underneath. The way the character was dressed made him seem like he was ancient, belonging to the 1800's or earlier. Michael was fascinated by the design, looking it over and even getting closer to inspect the artwork. "Spooky," he finally responded, breathless. "It's okay," Ira shrugged, earning him a stern look from Michael. Was he being serious? This was amazing! Whosever idea this was, they had certainly put a lot of time and effort into it. "Solly," Michael began, turning back with a smile. "I think this is a great idea! It is spooky lookin'." "Very spooky, huh? This kid sent in the script and all this artwork, said he wants _us_ to direct it!" That took Michael aback a bit. "A kid did all this? How old—" Solomon suddenly shoves a nicely stapled stack of papers in Michael's hand, cutting him off from his question. "Read it! Read the first encounter with the monster, Michael!" Michael, stunned from the sudden demand, took a moment to compose himself with the newly acquired manuscript. He reached into his coat, searching for something before finally pulling them out.

Last year, when Michael got back with Lester Crest and began to plan that jewelry store heist to pay back Martin Madrazo for an incident that Michael caused, Lester had given him a special pair of glasses to wear into the store. The thing was, back then, Michael's eyesight was perfectly fine. In some cases, it still was. The glasses then were designed with a camera for Lester to see into the store, allowing the man to help with planning the whole heist accordingly. Michael had joked to himself about these glasses, saying that he never need them, that his eyesight would be perfect. However, within the past year, Michael had been straining his eyes with the size of certain text. He didn't understand what it was, but it had bothered him enough when he was beginning to have headaches from straining his eyes so much. It had gotten to terrible to the point that Michael finally gave in, and went to an eye specialist to figure out what the problem was. It turned out that he struggled reading finer-looking print, and that his age was the cause of it. However, the easiest fix to this was to simply buy himself a pair of reading glasses. Michael thought that was nonsense, that he could read just fine. Although, when the headaches persisted, he did give in once again and bought himself a pair. Since then, whenever Michael needed to read anything written in fine print, he had to take out his reading glasses and use them. At first, he hated it because it made him feel old, when he knew he still had a good few years left in him, but over time, Michael couldn't deny that he had come to like wearing them. The glasses made him feel more sophisticated, in some settings.

As he gently nudged the reading glasses upon his nose, Michael began to read the script he was given. It was astonishing! The playful dialogue between the protagonist and their friend, the sudden witnessing of the first character death, the graphic detail of the murder that actually chilled him to the bone. He peered up to Solomon, a happy, bewildered look upon his face. "Solly... this shit is _good_." "Let me see that script!" Ira snatched the script from Michael's hand, skimming over it quickly before flipping to the next page, and then the next... and then the next. Solomon simply smiled as he watched his return the script back to Michael, silence overtaking him. "Told you. This kid is amazing!" he beamed, bending over to pick up the boards he discarded in his earlier demonstration. "The kid and I—well, Claude is the kid's name—we have been exchanging those... what are they called again? E-mails? Anyway, we have been talking for over a month now, and he has been working on this for a very long time. Told me his dream was to see his movie up on the big screen! But the problem was, he didn't want anyone to steal his idea..." Solomon peered over at Ira's direction, who looked away with a curled lip. It was an exchange Michael didn't understand at first, but it didn't matter after the moment had passed. "So I swore to the kid—to Claude—that his movie was still his own and that I would make sure it would be. So... that's why I'm here." Michael smiled as he bent down to pick up the remaining posters, helping Solomon put them back in the portfolio bag. "That is very noble of you, sir. I can happily say that I am very glad to be working for you one more time." "Oh you and me both, Michael! I still need a good associate producer to help me make this kid's dream a reality! Are you up for it?" Michael slowly took off his reading glasses, smiling broadly as he grasped the man's hand in his, shaking it firmly.

"You know you can count on me, Solly. I'm your man!"

* * *

"Hey Amand. Guess who's working on another movie?"

The rain from today was still rolling heavily outside, thudding loudly against their window as Michael was settling in for bed. Amanda was sitting by her vanity, removing her makeup in the mirror as Michael had removed his trousers behind her. "Really?" she simply responded, focusing on her makeup removal. Michael chuckled happily, looking over his shoulder at her as he put his clothes in the hamper basket by their closet. "Yeah. We're calling it _The Gravekeeper_. I think it's kinda catchy." "Sounds it." Michael adjusted his boxers as he came over to his side of the bed, sitting on it with a sigh and watching his wife in the mirror. With the way the room was setup, his side of the bed was where her vanity sat, so when he awoke in the morning, he could see his sleeping wife behind him through their reflection. In the beginning, that was not what he used the mirror for. In fact, he never used it but maybe once to fix his tie. However, lately, he used it to watch over his wife while she slept, creating a sense of peace in the man that he loved feeling upon seeing her peaceful form. It gave him great joy to see her look so comfortable in the bed, dreaming the night away calmly.

"You excited about it?"

The sound of his wife's voice caught him off-guard a moment, making him think hard on what she said before finally replying. "Oh I'm very excited about it! I think it'll be good for the studio. Plus, it's a horror movie. I've never really worked on one before, but... there's a first time for everything." "Right," Amanda simply responded, throwing her makeup removal wipes in the waste basket beside her. She stood up from her vanity and made her way over to her side of the bed, fixing her nightgown as she pulled the sheets back. "Solomon is back," Michael continued, finally nestling himself under their bed sheets as well. "Oh that's nice," his wife replied. "He was a very nice man. Didn't he retire though?" "Yeah, but... the kid who wrote the script for the horror movie... Solly made him a promise." Michael laid his head on the pillow, sighing comfortably as his head began to sink into the memory foam. "He didn't want anyone to steal his idea, so Solly came out of retirement to make sure the film got done right. And recruited me to help out, of course. I couldn't say no. I thought his reason was very noble!" Amanda seemed to make a sound of agreement, turning on her side to face her husband while they talked. "It is noble, isn't it? The kid must be very grateful." Michael turned his head to look at her, smiling sweetly. "I think he is, too. I haven't even met the kid, and already I can tell you I like him. He is an excellent writer. You should've read the script, Mand. It was amazing!" "I can only imagine," his wife replied, sighing softly.

Michael's sweet smile softened as he gazed up at Amanda, her long, thick hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned onto her elbow, her head resting in her hand. She looked absolutely beautiful, the soft glow of the nightlight behind her illuminating her creating a scenic look, the lamp on his side ever so slightly casting an even softer light upon her features. Somehow, Amanda looked just as beautiful as she did the day he met her. He didn't think he'd ever fall for her, or that he'd ever fall for him, but in the end, here they were, together. He slowly began to sit up as he watched, not even noticing his wife's confused gaze as she saw him reposition himself. "Michael?" He blinked lazily at her, a smile still on his lips. "What's going on? Are you okay?" "I'm perfectly fine, honey. Great, actually." He scooted closer to Amanda, his hand slowly coming up to her cheek and brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Hey," he began gently, gazing into her eyes lovingly. "I was thinkin'... We haven't really... y'know." Amanda raised a brow, a perplexed look donning her features. It caused him to softly laugh, his eyes still locked onto his wife's.

He didn't forget what he had planned for her. After the amazing day he's had at the studio, with Solomon's return and the new film that was being produced, Amanda deserved to be given the best treatment tonight. She deserved a queen's treatment.

His hand slipped from Amanda's cheek and to her hip, his face slowly leaning inward to kiss her cheek. He wanted to give her a special night, as he felt that today was spectacular so far. She deserved to feel just as spectacular as the day has been. It was his plan since before he left this morning. He wasn't going to back out on this one. "You look so beautiful," he whispered in her ear. He kissed her cheek again. "I wanna give you something special tonight, honey. Just for you." He moved his lips to her neck, growling softly as his slowly left tongue-filled kisses along her skin, his hand slipping to her caress bottom. He couldn't help but inhale the scent on her skin. She smelled amazing, oddly enough. Was she wearing her favorite perfume just for him? The thought made him smile, his lips giving her skin another tongue-filled kiss before his hand playfully squeezed one of her bottom cheeks. "Michael," Amanda called, her hand pressing against his shoulder. He purred in reply, moving closer to her to deepen his kiss on her neck. He wanted to mark her, to show the world that she was his and no one else's. He was getting so worked up, not even realizing it as he continued to indulge in this pleasure. A part of him didn't want to stop. He wanted Amanda to tell him how much she liked this, how she wanted him to take her as they laid in bed together.

He wanted her.

He desired her.

He—

"Michael, I'm really tired."

He froze in place, his lip mere inches away from her neck as he heard her voice. He was surprised by her words. Why was she so tired? She didn't even work today, and based on their conversation at dinnertime, she didn't even leave the house. He thought it was odd that she felt so tired. Was she simply not in the mood tonight, and used it as an excuse? Michael wouldn't have cared, either way. He'd respect his wife's decision regardless. To that note, he decided to think about what else had happened during his wife's day, to try and solve the mystery of her exhaustion. There was the downpour that came this afternoon when he was at work, the same downpour that continued even now outside. Maybe that was why she was tired. Watching the rain usually made anyone feel sleepy. It was a bit of a stretch, but he suspected that the rain was the culprit. He smiled with a soft chuckle, his finger fixing one of her long locks behind her ear. "Sorry, baby. You're right. It _has_ been an exhausting day, hasn't it?" She nodded in reply, fixing her blankets over her body again before laying down. Michael couldn't tell if she was relieved by this, or if this was the exhaustion overtaking her, but either way, he didn't blame her. "Least the gardener finished up before the rain came," Amanda murmured, finally settling down in the bed. "Our yard looks better, even if it got rained on." Michael chuckled, nodding his head; "Yeah. That guy really knows how to make a yard look good. I'm surprised by the guy's dedication to his work." He watched as Amanda nestled her head against her pillow comfortably, her eyes closing as a sigh left her chest. Michael couldn't help but smile again at the sight of her. She looked so pretty just like this. Michael didn't need to have sex to be happy with Amanda. He realized that over the years he's been married to her. He felt like the most luckiest man alive, just to be sitting here beside her.

"I love you, Amanda."

He didn't need to think on his words. He meant every bit of it. He did love her, even when they fought and she left the house. His heart was always with her. Amanda peered up at him when he spoke his declaration of love, her expression blank for a time before a faint smile crossed her lips. "Goodnight, Michael." His wife turned over in the bed, her back facing him as she lets out another long, tiring sigh. Michael couldn't deny that he felt a twinge of melancholy in his chest when his wife didn't tell him she loved him in return. Normally, she would tell him she loved him every night before they went to bed, a routine that never broke until recently. Was there something more going on that he didn't know? He shook the thought from his head. No way Amanda was doing something crazy. She loves him, and he loves her. Everything was okay. She was just tired, he suspected. Besides, he didn't _need_ her to tell him that she loved him. He already knew she did. He curled up beside her, his arm protectively draping over her body as he gives her one more kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, honey," he replied, happily sighing as he finally relaxed in the comfort of his wife beside him. Michael was happy with how today went. He was happy with the life he finally desired to live. He had two kids that were finally fully grown and out on their own, his beautiful wife beside him, and a career he always longed to have. Life truly was good.

Wasn't it?

* * *

Richards Majestic's next biggest film was on the rise these last two months. _The Gravekeeper_ was all anyone could talk about at the studio. Michael was so elated with how this film was turning out, even if they had to switch the lead actress out at least three times already. The actress that was depicted in the artwork that was shown two months prior outright refused to do the film, which made it harder for the studio to find the right actress to replace her. But even with that, Michael was still glad to come into work every day. Just being on-set, watching the action, giving his input, even taking a shot at directing a scene or two. This was when he was most happy. Movies were his life, and to be here making them now was a dream come true for the man. Granted, there were days when anyone at the studio, most of the time being the actors, would pushed his buttons just a little too much, and would make him angry and frustrated. However, he had learned to keep his cool on the job, and to find enjoyment in the challenges that it gave him. He was actually enjoying his time here, and there wasn't a day that went by where he didn't find this job boring. Each and every day presented a new and exciting issue to deal with, and it made his time here worth it all.

Michael had just left the studio after a successful day at shooting for this picture, exhaustion clinging to him like a tick on a dog. He was ready to come home, to eat dinner, take a much needed shower, and hit the bed. He wondered what his most darling wife was up to. They were having it rough the last couple of weeks, as Amanda was being more distant than usual. Michael tried to think of what he could've done wrong. Did he forget something recently that agitated her? Or perhaps it was simply one of her moods when she wasn't feeling like herself? At a stop light, he pulled out his phone to look at his events calendar, just in case there was an event he forgot or missed. There did not seem to be any important dates happening anytime soon, save for a family dinner date that was next week, but that was just with her and their kids at a local restaurant. He was really good at remembering things as of late, doing everything to be a loving, supportive husband while still focusing on this new picture. That includes giving his wife things she asked him for, even if she didn't really need them.

New shoes? Of course. New clothes? Absolutely. New car? If it helps her get to where she's gotta go, you betcha.

The same went for Jonas the gardener. When his wife asked if they could hire him to replace Carlos, Michael didn't object. She wanted their yard to look pretty, so why would he say no? A nice yard makes the missus happy. It made him feel happier, too, when she was happy. He thought he could pick up a small bouquet of flowers for Amanda before coming home. Surely she'd enjoy that, and it would hopefully ease whatever mood Amanda was in right now. As the light turned green, he began to make his way to the nearest flower shop. Maybe roses would do nicely.

* * *

"Here you go, Mr. De Santa. One bouquet of red roses for your wife," the cheerful young lady chimed in, giving the man a delicately wrapped bouquet. Michael could see that these were well taken care of, and its petals shined so brilliantly. "These are damn beautiful. Thanks!" he replied, fiddling with one of the rose's petals. He really hoped Amanda would like them. She was really big into having flowers on their dining room table. She might change out those old flowers for these, seeing as how lovely they looked. "Anniversary?" the flower girl asked, watching Michael take his credit card out and swiping it. "Nah, nah. Just... wanting to do something nice for the missus," he said with a smile. He didn't want to tell her that Amanda was acting weirdly distant lately, and he hoped that this would help his wife ease whatever plagued her, and bring her closer to him. "Aww that's sweet! She's lucky to have a husband like you, doing things just because you can!" Michael felt flattered, but wasn't sure if he could agree with the girl. Granted, Michael and Amanda have yet to have an argument, but it did bother him that she was not herself lately. He knew she wasn't pregnant again, nor was it that time of the month for her.

So what was it?

He bit his tongue as a thought occurred to him. Obviously he had to be wrong about it. Still, the fear was consuming him, that fear of Amanda meeting another man and starting the cycle all over again. It took him a while before he was able to shake his head of the thought. He can't think that. Not yet. Besides, it has yet to occur, so there was no way he could think so low of Amanda. She must be bothered by something, and when he returns home, they'll sit down and discuss it like adults, as they should. He knew that was the right course of action, and it would help set aside his fears, as well as help understand what was going on in his wife's head. "Thanks for the flowers," he repeated again, putting his wallet back into his suit pocket and exiting the shop. He'd have time to think about how he was going to approach his wife on this matter on the way home, he supposed. Or at least try to think of more positive things between him and his wife, and not worry so much over such a silly fear.

As he got back into his car, he delicately set the flowers in the passenger seat. Then his eyes locked onto them, just staring at the brilliantly red petals that adorned each rose. He really hoped that these weren't going to be used as an apology for some unknown problem he didn't know about. He wanted his wife to be happy, and to love them simply because it was just a little something he felt like doing. He wasn't really expecting anything in return, not even a thank you or a simple "I love you" for it. The thought of using these roses to ease Amanda was nonsense, and he decided that they would serve a better purpose just to be given to her as a simple gift for no other reason than that. Michael took a deep breath and started up his car, turning the engine over until it purred perfectly. He had to stop worrying about this. He felt he was losing years of his life over it, from all the worrying he was doing lately. He couldn't stop himself from feeling so distraught, but he knew he had to try. Home wasn't that far off now, so he settled for listening to some music on the radio. A nice song from Kenny Loggins himself began to play through the speakers, _Meet Me Half Way_ which played in a movie Michael remembered watching back in the eighties. It actually soothed him a bit, easing his mind. A chuckle suddenly left him, one that eventually turned into a full on laugh as he stopped at a red light.  
In the movies, when the main character was feeling down, all the music on the radio would play sad songs. A trope he recognized quite well. This song wasn't sad, necessarily, but it did make him feel better, put him at ease. Life was good, this song was about love and how good it was when they're together. Michael felt like he was embodying the trope just now, and it made him laugh even harder. What was he so worried about again? He knew Amanda and him were doing great, and that she had to be in a bit of a spat. Michael would do whatever it took to help her out of that spat, to make her feel better. He would always be there for her, and help her whenever she needed it. He knew it would all be okay. He decided that he would surprise her with the roses, firstly. Then, he would sit her down, hands in his, and talk to her. He was going to do whatever he had to do, to make her feel like her old self again. Even if it meant going and beating someone to a bloody pulp for so much as looking at her wrong. For Amanda, he would give her the world to make her smile again.

All the while thinking about this, Michael didn't realize that he finally had reached home. It was a good thing, though. While he was a bit tired, he knew he had a task to do. Amanda needed him, and he wanted to focus on her, to make her feel better. He drove uphill toward his home, pulling up to the security gate and spotting his wife's car beyond it, that familiar bright yellow coupe he bought her three months prior, sitting idle right by the garage. "Good. She's home," he mumbled to himself, driving up to their gate. He took a peek at the roses as the gate was slowly opening. They still gleamed so beautifully in the seat beside him, and it made him smile. He certainly hoped that she would love these flowers. However, as the security gate opened completely, Michael noticed a familiar old pickup truck parked right under the awning of his house in front of him. Upon pulling in, he suddenly recognized it, confusion overtaking his mind. It was the new gardener's truck, Jonas. That familiar dull green vehicle, with the peeling paint job and white lettering on the side, and that little sheep logo. The gardener never comes to the house on a Friday, said he didn't have their house scheduled for that day. What was going on?  
As Michael turned off his car's engine, he carefully grabbed the flowers and got out, noting how the gardener's tools were laid out by the bushes next to a part of their front lawn. Did Amanda call him to work on these, to see if he was available? She never mentioned to Michael her feelings about the bushes. Although, that could've been what was bothering her these last couple weeks. She did hate when the bushes were untidy. It didn't stop the sinking feeling that Michael felt in the pit of his stomach, however. Why was Jonas still here? Why was the job half finished? Did he injure himself with one of his tools? Was he inside with Amanda? Michael could feel his heart pound erratically in his chest, his hand gripping the roses even tighter to the point he could swear one of them still had a thorn on its stem. Jonas wasn't inside with Amanda right now, was he? What were they doing in there? He couldn't be doing what Michael _thought_ he was doing, right? He was, wasn't he? Amanda and Jonas were sleeping together?!

No.

He couldn't believe that. He had to give Amanda and Jonas the benefit of the doubt. After all, she was his wife, and he trusts her. They had a lot of problems last year, but they have been working great together since. There was no way Amanda would recede back to her old ways, and sleep around with other men. She wasn't a stripper anymore, and was happily married to him. They were happy together.

Right?

Yes. They were. Of course they were happy.

Besides, if Jonas was inside the house, maybe Amanda was simply patching up a tiny cut he had from working? That had to be it. He'll admit that they aren't the best of people at times, but at least they weren't heartless. They'd offer to help patch up someone if they accidentally hurt themselves on their property. "Calm down, Michael," he whispered quietly to himself at last. "You're fine. She's fine. Everything's fine. Stop getting worked up." He took a deep breath and made his way to the front door, taking the doorknob in his hand. However, the door was locked. Michael was confused at first, but shook his head. Amanda might've accidentally locked the door out of habit. He's accidentally locked himself out a couple times, as well. It was no big deal. He took his keys and unlocked the door before him, entering it calmly and with a clear, if not somewhat rambled, mind. It was very quiet at first, but Michael put it out of his mind. They were probably in the kitchen, as the sink there was closer than the one upstairs in the bathroom. He tossed his keys onto the table right by the front door, delicately cradling the flowers in his hands as he was beginning to make his way to the kitchen. However, not even after Michael had taken a single step further inside, he heard heavy thumping sounds. It sounded like it came from upstairs. Footsteps? "What was that?" Michael decided to take a moment to listen in, quietly standing there and waiting for even the slightest sound. It took a moment, but that same sound came again. They were definitely footsteps, and judging by how heavy they were, they couldn't belong to Amanda.

But if they weren't Amanda's footsteps, that could only mean...

"_Shit_."

Michael couldn't control the pounding in his chest as his heart raced, his legs carrying him swiftly up the stairs of his home. He held the roses firmly in his hand, being careful not to crush the petals as he walked quickly to his bedroom door. "Not again," he whispered to himself, trying to remain calm. "Not again, Amanda. Please not in our house. Let me be wrong, please." Michael stood right outside the bedroom door, his free hand ready to open it until he heard it. It caused his very blood to run cold, making him freeze in place. "You look very lovely, Amanda." He wasn't crazy. It was Jonas! Jonas Gilligan's voice was beyond this door, with his wife! He couldn't believe this. He wouldn't believe it. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. "You're too sweet to me, Jonas." No. This couldn't be... Was Amanda actually liking this, whatever it was Jonas was doing? No, it couldn't be! They promised that they would do better by one another, that they wouldn't go back to how they were in the past. There was no way Amanda was doing this. She couldn't be! He heard her voice again from beyond the door, giggling as something happened between the two. "I have so much fun when you come over," he heard her say, causing the blood in his veins to grow even colder. "So how are you going to do it tonight? From the front? Or behind?" Michael could practically hear his wife purring as she spoke. This couldn't be real! "I'll take you any which way you want, Amanda," Jonas had replied to her, laughing alongside her. "So long as I get to hear those beautiful screams." Michael felt as if he was going out of his mind. This could not be happening! This was not real! Like a man possessed, Michael stood in front of the bedroom door, steadying his stance as he could feel every muscle in his body reawakening as he began to wind himself up. He hadn't done this in at least a year, but he knew he still had the strength. The muscles in his legs became tense as he readied himself, taking a deep, heavy breath before he forcibly kicked the door opened, startling the occupants inside.

He had truly wished his fears were wrong, that the imagery before him was fake and only just some dream.

For laying on the bed he shared with his wife, was Amanda, her robe slid off her shoulders to reveal her nudity to Jonas, who had crawled upon her on the bed, his blue jeans unbuttoned and in the process of being tugged down by none other than Amanda herself. His shirt was discarded on the floor beside the bed, along with his wife's undergarments that tangled with the man's clothes. The roses that were once in Michael's hand slipped from his fingers, falling with a very quiet crash to the floor, the petals scattering at his feet. He could feel every fiber in his body tense with anger, his empty hands curling up into tight fists. He could feel his knuckles pop slightly from the pressure of his grip. His steely blue eyes were bewildered by the sight of Amanda and Jonas, both who jumped off the bed with a start. "Oh my God!" Amanda's voice shrieked, followed by Jonas's startled voice; "Crap!" He couldn't believe it. How long had this been going on for? Why were they doing this? Why was Amanda doing this, and with Jonas who was almost half her age? What did he do wrong? Where did he go wrong? It was insanity! It was maddening to see his wife with another man once again, and despite how well he was doing to try and hold back his anger, he was quickly slipping. "What the hell?!" Michael shouted, glaring disgustingly at the two of them. Jonas was struggling to try and get his belt buckled again, while Amanda had pulled her robe back over her shoulders. He shook his head at the sight of them, his face contorting into that of pure detestation for the scene before him. How could this have happened? How did Michael not see the signs? When did all of this begin? "Mr. De Santa!" Jonas began, his hands waving defensively before him. "It isn't what it looks like! I promise!" Michael blinked slowly in disbelief, practically glaring holes into the young man's skull as he peered in his direction. He could not be serious. Jonas could sense this, his eyes gazing over at a very distraught and exposed Amanda, who could only glance back at him as she held the robe tightly to her body. His wife was completely nude beneath that robe, intentionally nude for the purpose of Jonas and their acts of adultery. It was then Jonas looked down at himself, seeing the sorry state he was in. His jeans were still unbuttoned, the belt haphazardly buckled but loose. He couldn't make them look any less guilty than their appearance already made them. He shook his head in defeat, knowing that there was no way out of this. "Never mind, it is _exactly _what it looks like," he admitted, but quickly continued on, his hands back up in self-defense. "—but listen! There's a very good explanation for all this! I swear!"

A good explanation?

Those words would echo in Michael's head as he approached Jonas, who stood by silently as the older man came towards him. There was something there that Michael felt in his chest. It was a feeling that he was doing so well to suppress, a feeling he remembered when he walked in to see her old tennis coach in their bedroom, naked in all but his underwear and socks. It was a nerve that was poked and prodded at, a nerve that felt provoked in the worse possible way. He has been holding on for as long as he could, that feeling now completely conquering his actions and taking control. Michael faced the young man, whose frightened hazel green eyes gazed back into his stern, steely blues. Two months ago, this face didn't bother him. This was a face of a young man who was a hard worker, a man who did everything with his hands. The same hands that also helped themselves to his wife's body when he wasn't around.

Before he could react, Michael's fist flew in a fiery rage towards the young man, hitting him square on the nose. Jonas flew back and crashed into the large pottery in the corner of their bedroom, the glass shattering as it was forcibly pushed back against the wall by his body. "No!" Amanda cried out, her hands flying to her mouth. The young man groaned in pain, his face revealing his now broken, bloodied nose. If this was the boy's first time experiencing this kind of pain, then Michael knew that he had more where that came from. "You shit—!" he began, grabbing Jonas by the hair. He lifted him up off the floor a little, the younger man trying to pry the other's grip from his head. "Please, Mr. De Santa!" Jonas pleaded, but his cries went unanswered as another fist flew and landed a nasty blow. This time, the young man had a black eye, tears finally shedding. "Are you fuckin' with my wife, Jonas?" Michael demanded. "Let him go, Michael!" Amanda begged, although her husband ignored her. Jonas coughed a little, spitting out a small amount of blood that fell into his mouth. "Please..." "Are you fucking my wife?!" Michael's grip in the young man's hair became tighter, his fist striking another blow to his face. It caused Jonas to choke on the blood, coughing as he finally answered; "Yes! I am! I'm sorry!" The amount of pure rage that Michael felt couldn't be describe into words. It infuriated him, that this young man had somehow crawled his way into his wife's heart and mind. Why did she let him? What was so good about him that made Michael inferior? "Stop it!" Amanda shouted as Michael raised his fist again, his anger so strong that he almost didn't hear her, until she would shriek one last time.

"Don't kill him, Michael!"

He froze. It took a moment for him to snap back into reality, but within that moment, Michael realized that he was on the verge of killing this man. Would that be right? Jonas was still young, still had his whole life ahead of him. But he slept with Amanda. He felt conflicted with himself. Should he kill him? Should he let him go? He knew that killing him would make him feel better, would solve the problem of his wife sleeping around again. But would that really solve it? Wouldn't she find comfort in yet another man's arms instead? Letting him live would ensure that Amanda and Jonas would still see each other. Unless this entire situation would discourage the young man from seeing his wife again? Michael didn't know. All he knew was that his fist was trembling, and that his knuckles hurt. He gazed upon his hand, noting the slightly bloody knuckles. Then it hit him. This was him regressing back. He said he was a changed man, a better man, and yet here he was, about to kill again. He couldn't do it again. Not because he is ashamed of killing, or for the fact that he was quite comfortable with killing people. But because he wasn't going to kill someone for something like this. It was wrong, despite how wrong Jonas was for sleeping with his wife. He desperately wants to kill him, but in the end, Michael knew what he needed to do.

He needed to be better.

He _knows_ he is better.

"I am better than this," Michael whispered to himself. Jonas looked up at the older man curiously, coughing as the grip in his hair was released. He felt his body hit the floor, all his weight coming down even harder than he's ever dropped. Jonas didn't understand what was happening, as his eyes searched Michael's in fear. Michael had gazed upon his trembling hands before a scowl filled his features, his blue eyes glaring in the young man's direction. "You're fired, pal! Get the fuck out of my house!" Michael hoped that Jonas wouldn't have the balls to return here, nor to keep in contact with Amanda again. He doesn't know where he went wrong with his wife, but it is his problem to fix. He needed to understand, to hear it from her. He knew she would give him the answer. He only hoped it was one he'd understand. Jonas crawled over to where his shirt was tangled up with Amanda's undergarments, grabbing it and struggling to get to his feet. He was grateful to still be alive after this ordeal. The married couple watched as the young man staggered towards the open bedroom door, grabbing the handle for balance as he tripped over his own feet into it. Jonas took a moment before gazing up at them, his voice hoarse and soft and so full of sorrow. "I'm sorry, Amanda." He slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving the married couple behind. It was unbelievable. Was Jonas seriously thinking about returning? Or was this his way of telling her that he was through? Michael still felt his hand trembling, his knuckles feeling sore and slightly swollen from having inflicted damage on Jonas. Michael held his slightly wounded hand, inspecting it, but this didn't matter to him. He couldn't stop thinking about what's he's done. He nearly killed that boy. He _could've_ killed that boy. He was lucky he was able to resist and stop himself this time. But will there be a next time? What if he did this again? He still regrets the trouble he caused when he tore down that house, chasing that stupid tennis coach of hers. However, he swore to himself that he was going to change, that he was going to be better for his kids, for Amanda, for himself. Yet here he was, his fist throbbing after beating down a defenseless man, simply for sleeping with his wife. Jonas was in the wrong, but in a way, so was Michael.

'_I **am** better than this_,' he thought to himself, his eyes blankly staring at his knuckles as he flexed his fingers. '_...right?_'

"Way to go, Michael, you dick!"

The insult threw Michael off. He spun to look at Amanda, confusion in his eyes. "What?!" "Why the hell did you do that?! Jonas didn't do anything wrong!" Michael shook his head in disbelief. Was Amanda serious? Jonas didn't do anything wrong? So what was all of this, then? A big misunderstanding? "What the fuck does that mean?! He is sleeping with my wife, with _you_!" he retorted, taking a step towards her. Amanda scoffed annoyingly, not allowing herself to meet his eyes. This infuriated Michael. Why was she doing this? What was causing her to act like this? "Amanda, did you forget what we said last year?!" he continued, expressively thrusting his hands as he speaks. "We made a promise to each other! We said we wouldn't do this shit anymore!" Amanda suddenly began to laugh, as if this was all a joke to her. Was she not taking this seriously? "Well I am so sorry Michael, but Jonas actually makes me happy! You, on the other hand, don't!" That really struck him. He tried his best to show that Amanda's words didn't sting, but ultimately, they did. How was she not happy with him? He had money, and bought her things that she asked for, even gave her cash to go and spend it to her heart's delight. They still had the house, helped their kids move out, giving them a chance to spend more time together, as a married couple should. So why was she so unsatisfied with him? What did he do wrong to cause her to go and sleep with someone else? "Really?!" Michael asked angrily, glaring at her with wild eyes. "Yeah! Really!" Amanda mocked back, imitating her husband. It felt so insulting, and made him feel humiliated. But he couldn't back down. He had to get the whole answer from her. There was so much more to this than she was telling him. "Why?! Why aren't you happy with me, Amanda? What the fuck did I do wrong?" Amanda glared back at him, her own expression bewildered by his question. It was a look Michael had only seen one other time before, a look that told him that she genuinely couldn't believe that he didn't realize what the problem was. It was one of the many things Michael did fear, which was his wife believing that she was unhappy with him.

"What did you do wrong, Michael?" Amanda asked him, a dry, sarcastic laugh leaving her as she took a fearless step towards him. "I'll tell you _exactly_ what you did wrong. You, are, _boring_." Michael blinked profusely as he staggered back, the one word he feared the most with her becoming a reality. He did everything he could to keep his composure, but even that was staggering. Amanda could sense this, however. She was always good at sensing these things. She was becoming bolder, now moving to stand directly in her husband's face, practically snarling at him. "That's right. I am bored with you, Michael. For the last five months, I have felt extremely and utterly bored of you, and the life we live!" Michael moved away from her, shaking his head in disbelief. How was he boring? He gave her everything! He couldn't even look at her, even as she kept on going. "Our life isn't exciting anymore! I just can't stand to do anything with you! Whenever we would go out for any social gatherings, all I see is you being the 'big shot' movie producer, and me as the trophy wife — it's boring! Boring, boring, boring! Oh God, and _don't_ even mention the last time we had sex together! I was _bored_ out of my mind from that, as well! The same tireless way you use that mouth of yours, thinking it'll get me going!" Michael ran his hand over his face, pushing back his loose locks of hair with a deep, shaky sigh. The truth was finally out. Somehow, within the last five months — a length of time he didn't even realize she felt for so long — he had somehow manage to create a rift in their marriage again. He thought he was so careful this time! He was more accepting and open to his wife and kids, trying to be more helpful and calm as he did things, even doing everything he could to please and impress Amanda, and not make her feel bombarded by his advances. It was tearing him to shreds on the inside, how much all of this was actually hurting him. He had to fix this, but he didn't know how. How could he make himself less boring?

Although, he did wonder if this was even his fault at all. He hadn't slept with anyone at all, and stayed faithful to his wife since Day One of marrying her. How could he be the one who was in the wrong?

"But Jonas... Jonas makes me feel _special_."

Michael's head lifted at the sound of his wife's declaration, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach.

"He treats me like I deserve to be treated. He makes me feel like I can do anything, and everything. He didn't care I was married to your sorry ass. He loves me, desires me, and makes me feel truly special. An enduring quality you obviously lack!"

He turned to face his wife, asking her in a calm, but angry voice. "What exactly is wrong with you?!" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew that he always found a way to make his wife feel special, too. So what was Jonas doing that was different from him? How was that gardener better than him? "There's nothing wrong with me!" Amanda retorted, pointing at him angrily. "It's _you_ that's the problem!" Michael shook his head; "Nah. No, now you... you know that ain't true, Amanda." He took many deep, shaky breaths as he locked eyes with his wife, doing everything to remain calm with her. It was going to be difficult, but he had to try. Getting frustrated, even with Amanda egging him on, was not going to solve the problem. He had to show her that he is willing to do anything to fix this. Perhaps another reminder that he has been doing better. He snorted a deep sigh through his nose, opening his mouth to take one last shaky breath before speaking. "Now, I know I'm not a perfect man... but I have been trying my _damnedest_ to be better for you! And I think I've been doing pretty okay for the last year! Not perfect or great some days, but most were okay! Didn't you see that?" His wife was staring at him, a blank expression fixated on her features. Michael wasn't sure if he had gotten to her, or if she was actually taking the time to think on what he said. He knew that she knew he was doing good, even with the slip up moments ago. She had to admit that he did a good job stopping himself, right? He didn't even think he was capable, but was glad he found the strength to resist his urges. A part of him still wants to go and kill Jonas Gilligan, but he was smothering that feeling. He had to.

Amanda suddenly began to chuckle to herself. It was a quiet chuckle at first, one that seemed to be dry and weightless. Michael didn't seem to understand. Why was she laughing? What was so funny about this? Amanda shook her head as her laugh grew louder, a sullen look now creeping on her face as she glared up at him. "Well congratu-fucking-lations, Michael," she began, practically snarling at him as she began clapping her hands. "Let's all give Mr. Doing-So-Great a big pat on the back! What, you want me to give you a trophy instead?! Just like they do at those movie awards you enjoy so much?!" "What— no!" Michael responded, shaking his head angrily. "No I don't want a _fucking_ trophy, Amanda! I want my wife to see that I love her, and would do _anything_ for her!" Amanda seemed to pause as her husband spoke, his words seemingly striking some chord within her as she seemed to be taken aback by this. She seemed to gaze back at him with familiar eyes, eyes that told him that she did hear what he was saying. Does she finally how much their love means to him? He was breathing heavily now, his hand wiping across his mouth as he tried to steady himself. Arguing with him always exhausted him, more so recently than before. Michael ran his hand down over his thick stubble chin, gazing back up at his wife as he took a step towards her, his eyes compassionately searching hers. "What do you want, Amanda, baby? I'll do anything for you... anything at all!" Amanda's eyes gazed away from her husband's a moment, as if she was thinking deeply on something. Michael wanted to see her eyes, to understand what she could possibly be thinking. It worried him that she was avoiding his eyes. He was serious when he told her that he would do anything for her. He loved his wife enough to sacrifice so much for her, even his own lifestyle to make her happy. He was willing to do anything to fix their marriage for her.

Amanda finally gazed up at Michael with large, doe-like eyes, her voice gentle and soft as she spoke at last. "Anything..?" Michael could've sworn that he saw a flicker of light in his wife's eyes, one that gave him hope. Was she going to give him this chance? Was she going to tell him what he had to do to make all of this go back to the way it was? He didn't care if he had to fly to the moon and back to make her happy, he'd do it. Amanda was his wife, and he was not going to lose her again. He couldn't. He watched her carefully, anxiously waiting for her to speak to him, to tell him what she believes he should do to solve this once and for all. Amanda's soft, downcast eyes dared not look directly into Michael's, as she seemed to have been giving herself some time to think this through. He decided to give her this time to think, to take the time to tell him exactly what it is that he has to do. He was ready, willing, and able, even though he was physically exhausted after both work and everything he had endured here at home. When Amanda looked back at up at him again, Michael shifted his weight, his eyes locking onto hers, the anticipation causing him to suddenly feel jittery. The only problem with this inclination was the answer his wife would give him.

"Then get out."

Michael could swear he could hear his own heart cracking.

"What?" he asked quietly, his steely blue eyes searching his wife's for an explanation. Amanda growled in frustration, suddenly shouting at him again. "I want you out of this house, Michael! Go drink, or fuck some whore, I don't care! Just get out and leave me alone!" Michael's face contorted into one of pure disgust at the suggestion his wife threw at him. How could she tell him that? He retaliated, his eyes glaring deeply into hers as he took a step towards her. "Bullshit! I am not going to go fuck some random woman, Amanda! I told you I wouldn't do that shit when we got married—" "I don't fucking give a shit, Michael! Just get the fuck out, and don't come back tonight!" Michael stood there, his breath heavy, his fists shaking, his body trembling with anger. He wanted to shout at her, to yell at her until he lost his voice. He wanted to say so many things to her, to tell her that kicking him out was wrong and she knows it. How could she do this to him? He has given her everything, and never asked for much in return. It was as if she had taken a knife and stabbed him, cutting him deeper than any knife wound he had actually experienced. He desperately wanted to say something, to beg, plead, to outright scream and tell her to let him stay. However, he realized that he did tell her that he would do anything for her.

Anything.

Including leaving the house for the night.

_"Goddammit__!"_

Michael stormed to the bedroom door and flung it open, the door slamming against the small couch that sat right by the wall that hung a large painting of his wife. He didn't care if he scuffed it at this point. He had to get away, to leave as his wife had requested. Well, more like demanded. He was pretty sure of that. Still, it enraged him that Amanda wanted him to leave. What would that solve? It wasn't going to stop her from seeing Jonas, or to help Michael understand how he can be less of a bore to her. His black leather shoes clicked rapidly as he made his way down the stairs and to the front door, angrily grabbing the handle and yanking on it. He fought with it for another moment before finally flinging the door opened, slamming it shut on his way out. He did not want to come back now. Maybe it would be good to get away, to leave and try to forget all of this. A drive through the neighborhood might be just want he needs. He approached his car, his hand reaching and grabbing the handle to open it. However, it didn't open. He tried opening his car door again, but struggled with the handle fiercely. Did he lock his car? He couldn't remember. Michael patted his pockets for the car keys, trying to find them so he could unlock his car door and drive away from here. It took a moment for him to realize that his keys were not on his person, for he left them in the house. The same house where his cheating wife still resided. The same house where said wife told him to leave and not come back. "Fuck!"  
He was so distraught. Now he had no mode of transportation, for there was no way he was going back inside to grab his keys. He would have to wait until tomorrow to get them. He couldn't stay outside his house all night. He had to get out of here. He had to get away from Amanda and cool off. As Michael snorted angrily to himself, he made his way over to the secondary security gate, which was a metal door that stood at the end of a small path in his front yard. He thrust it open and promptly left the property, squinting as his eyes made contact with the sun. The sun was setting over the distant Los Santos sky, but its beauty did not bring him comfort. It scorched him, burned him deeper than any wound he had ever felt. He simply began walking. He didn't care where, so long as it wasn't here. He started back downhill, back towards the small shopping strip of southern Rockford Hills. He didn't pay too much attention to where he went from there. His mind was all that preoccupied him now. It was full of so many questions. Questions he had about Amanda. Why would she do this? Why didn't she come to him when she first began to feel bored of him? Was she afraid that he wouldn't understand? He'd find a way to understand her, if she had given him the chance! Now he was left more angry and confused as to why she ran into the arms of another man. Now Jonas filled his mind. Why did the young man do this? Didn't he realize the risk of sleeping with a married man's wife? Amanda told him that, apparently, Jonas didn't care that she was married to Michael. Was their marriage not a boundary to him? He groaned quietly to himself, his face falling into his hand as he continued walking down a street. Despite how badly he wished he had strangled Jonas to death, he knew killing him would be wrong. His hand ran over his face, rubbing against his thick stubble chin once again. He knew that he did the right thing by letting Jonas live, even if it meant allowing them to continue to see each other. Killing him would've solved nothing. It wouldn't have helped Michael understand why Amanda felt the way she does. If only he could understand her. Why wouldn't she give him the chance?

_'You should've killed him when you had the chance.'_

That was a voice that Michael had not heard in almost a whole year. He recognized it, too. It was him. It was his own voice in his head. This voice only came out when he thought of dark things, of 'evil' things. He always did struggle with his good and evil sides, trying to do what was right to outweigh all the bad he had ever done in his life. He didn't think that the voice would ever come back after all this time. He thought that he was careful enough to avoid the voice from coming back. Michael suddenly chuckled to himself quietly. He felt like he was going crazy with how ridiculous this all seemed. The voice wasn't real, and was simply a figment in his own mind. Completely imaginary. _'Are you seriously trying to write me off as some imaginary thing? Really, you fat fuck? That's low, even for you.'_ It was still there?! Michael shook his head, noting the crosswalk sign indicating that he could cross the street. Was he actually going insane? The voice suddenly continued on in his head, bickering at him. _'Honestly. That asshole slept with your **wife**. Why did you let him go? Are you actually giving up on Amanda?'_ Michael rubbed his face, trying to ignore the voice. He wasn't going to allow himself to go crazy tonight. He needed to get rid of this voice as soon as he could. Maybe a distraction at the club would help. The dancers usually are what help him forget everything. Just like they did for him last year when his life was practically in shambles. _'What, are you thinking about going to the strip club? You always go there after fighting with her. You are one sad fuck.' _Michael stopped in his tracks, an unsettling feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach. He realized that there was no escaping that voice. It would always be with him until the end of his life. Wherever he went, whatever he did, it wold follow him. That 'evil' side of him. He couldn't escape himself.

But he could do better than himself.

He realized that the strip club was a place he kept away from so well within the past year. He wasn't about to break his streak by going there now. Doing so would only mean that he would be regressing back even more, and he couldn't allow that. Michael saw the way the sun gleamed on the building across the street, its glass shiny and new. He recognized this street. Across the street, right in the alleyway between the two rows of stores was the jewelry store known as Vangelico. The very same jewelry store that he and Franklin robbed that day, to pay off the Mexican drug lord that he accidentally angered when he chased that damned tennis coach of Amanda's so long ago. Despite the reasons, he had to admit that he never felt so alive in such a long time. He missed that rush of adrenaline, that chaos that made up every fiber in his being when he looked upon the glistening jewels that he would snatch up. Times seemed so much more simpler then. He wondered if he could still pull off a heist, like he did so many times last year. What a rush that would be to—

Michael shook his head. He was going to do better than he was before, that included thinking on past glories and successful heists and robberies. He had to be better than he once was. He decided to put the strip club far from his mind, and never think of going there again. He was going to go somewhere else, maybe even someplace new. That'll show his evil side. _'What do you think you're doing?'_ The voice almost sounded curious in his head. _'You're actually not going to the strip club, huh? That's funny. You think you're so clever. It won't matter. You're going to trip and fall like you always do. You'll see. Plus, you're gonna have to live with the fact that Amanda cheated on you, because you're a lousy, good for nothing bastard who can't even satisfy his wife in bed anymore. A real pity.'_ Michael was just about done with this damn voice in his head. If there was a way to extract voices like this one out of one's head, he would've done it by now. Of course, telling anyone about this tiny voice in his head would only solidify the fact that Michael has officially gone insane, despite how 'sane' he appears. He knew there was no way he could escape it, but he knew he could ignore it for now. Maybe then, it'll actually shut up and stop patronizing him.

Michael took out his cell phone, looking through his contacts list for the number to the cab company. He wasn't going to get very far on foot, as he could already feel his knees becoming weak from how far he has walked from home. Since he knows the new proprietor of the cab company, he could only hope that they would get here even sooner than they use to. When he found the number, he began to call it, listening to the ringing tone on the other end. It rung about two times before someone finally answered. "Downtown Cab Company, in transit since 1922. Raul speaking." "Hey, yeah. I need a cab," Michael responded, looking at the street signs. "I'm on the corner of Portola Drive and Eastbourne Way. Where that horse statue is?" The operator known as Raul seemed to be shuffling some papers around on the other end of the phone. Perhaps he was looking at a map to indicate where Michael was? "No problem. I'll have one there in a couple of minutes," he finally replied. Michael felt relieved. The sooner he was in a car to go somewhere, the better. He desperately wanted to forget tonight, and he needed to figure out where he was going to go from here. Maybe to one of the local bars he frequents? "Sounds good, thanks." Michael hung up, putting his cell phone back into his suit pocket. This would be a good opportunity to think on where he was going to go. There were many bars up and down this side of town, some even closer on foot. He had a multitude of choices thanks to what time it was. Most bars would be opening up now. _'Gonna go drink your memories away?'_ The voice had returned. _'You stupid fat fuck. Just like dear ol' Dad. Drinking away your life until you drop dead. You might as well. You're gonna be drinking a lot if you plan of forgettin' this night.'_ The voice was causing Michael to feel bitter, his lip tightening into a grimace. He wish he could tell it to shut up, but there were people around, walking up and down the streets. He couldn't let the voice win by letting others think he was crazy. He simply shook his head, trying to ignore the voice. _'Can't get rid of me that easily, Mikey boy. Nice try.'_ Michael quietly growled to himself, his hand pinching his eyes before the sound of a car horn took him by surprise. The cab he called for had arrived, and right where he needed it to be. He made his way over to the cab and got in, letting out an exhausting sigh. "Where you headed, homie?" the cab driver asked, leaning over his seat to look at Michael. "Whoa! You kinda look like shit, buddy. You okay?" "Just... take me a bar. Any fuckin' bar. I don't care." Michael began to rub his face with his hands, his fingers pushing into his eyes. He simply just wanted to forget everything. The affair, Jonas, Amanda, the voice in his head, all of it. He wanted to forget it all and never have to think of it again.

The driver began to make his way to a nearby bar, driving off in an unknown direction. Michael hoped that they would soon reach their destination, as he knew there was a bar right around the corner. That bottle of whiskey sure sounded sweet right about now. Enough shots of that, and he was bound to forget everything. As he threw his head back with a sigh, his hands fell to his sides. It was then that Michael discovered a flyer rolled up into a ball beside him, nudging his hand. "The hell is this?" He picked up the paper ball and began to unravel it. It was advertising a brand new underground nightclub in Vespucci Canal, a one Maisonette Los Santos. Michael had never been to a nightclub before, let alone an underground one. Surely there would be drinks there. It was almost too perfect in a strange sense. It was someplace new, a place where no one would be able to recognize him. It was the ideal place. "Hey," he called to the cab driver, showing him the flyer. "Know where this is?" The driver looked over his shoulder, noticing the flyer. "Oh yeah. I know where that is. Pretty boppin' place from what I hear. Lots of the younger crowd love it there." Michael felt like this place was even more perfect. If only a younger crowd of people came here, then that meant that there wouldn't be many people who wold recognize him there. He wasn't in the mood to be noticed and talked to after the day he's had, especially with Amanda. The thought of her and Jonas made his blood boil again, his voice deep as he slaps the flyer to the cab driver's chest. "Change of plans, pal. Vespucci Canals." The driver took the flyer and turned in his seat, looking at Michael curiously. "What? You wanna go to the nightclub? You sure, buddy?" The glare that Michael gave the driver was enough to scare the man back into his driver's seat, his hands taking the wheel and beginning to change his route.

"I-It's no big deal! I'll take you there!"

* * *

The drive was a bit relaxing, but Michael didn't really get to enjoy it as much as he would've liked. Between his lingering thoughts of Amanda and Jonas, the voice still acting in an imperious nature in his mind, and the hopes of drowning it all with booze, the trip from Rockford Hills to Vespucci Canals was a grueling one. He couldn't wait to finally arrive at this nightclub and order some whiskey. He knew he was going to need the whole bottle at this point. The driver turned onto a street and then came to a halt, nearly jerking Michael in his seat. Did they arrive yet? Why did the driver stop in the middle of the street? The cab driver turned in his seat, looking over his shoulder at the older man. "Alright, brother. Here we are." Michael looked out the window, but all he could see was the small shops and a outdoor dining area before him. He could also see the canal where the housing was all set up. There was an alleyway behind the chain of shops down this street, but he couldn't see anything. "Where's the nightclub?" he asked, peering over at the driver. "See that alleyway?" He pointed, both witnessing a couple disappear down the very alleyway they were watching. "That's the entrance to the club. Just have your ID ready before you hit the door. The bouncer's gonna check it." Michael nodded as he took out his wallet, paying his fare to the driver before getting out. "Thanks for the tip," he grunted, shutting the car door behind him. "Have fun, buddy. Don't get too wasted!" The cab driver zoomed down the street, leaving Michael on the sidewalk. Was he certain the club was here? There didn't seem to be anything to indicate that there was anything here.

Just then, Michael's ears picked up a sound coming from down the alleyway. Music? It wasn't anything Michael was use to listening to, the electronic drums pulsating and beating to a simple rhythm. He decided to follow that sound further into the alleyway, which got slightly louder and louder the closer he got. As he rounded the corner of one of the buildings, he saw it. A group of people standing in a line right outside a door. Posters of all kinds were plastered all over the walls and littered the ground around it, of DJ's that were known to play here. The bouncer was looking at the IDs of the couple that Michael saw earlier, his stern eyes glancing up at the two of them before giving their IDs back. "Welcome to Maisonette Los Santos. Drink responsibly." The bouncer let the couple pass, both laughing excitedly before quickly making their way inside the club through a door. The line didn't seem all that bad; only three people, if Michael included himself. This was starting to look like an interesting place. It was out of the way and hidden, but still visible to those who were seeking it out. At least now Michael can say he went somewhere new. He waited patiently for his turn, keeping his wallet handy before finally making it up to the bouncer. The young man in front of him flashed his ID quickly to the bouncer, beginning to make his way to the door before he was stopped. "Nice try, kid. Let me see the ID." The young man scoffed, taking the time to fix his spiky blue hair before begrudgingly giving the bouncer his ID. The large man looked between the ID and the young man, scanning it over and over before shaking his head. "Kid. I don't know who you got this forged ID from, but they need to work on their craft. I can see that this is an obvious fake. What are you, sixteen?" "Seventeen!" the kid corrected before growling angrily. "Dammit! Now I'm never gonna get in!" The bouncer laughed, shoving the fake ID back to the kid's hands. "Nice try. Go home and study. This ain't a place for kids like you." "You're not my dad!" the young, blue haired boy shouted, crossing his arms. "Way to ruin my fun, asshole!" He stomped past the bouncer and disappeared into the alleyway, giving way for Michael to make his approach.  
The bouncer looked Michael up and down, a small snort leaving him as he outstretched his hand, "ID." Michael opened his wallet and presented his identification card, letting the bouncer take it and inspect it. The man squinted hard as he looked between Michael and the ID card, as if he was trying to decipher something. "You grow your beard and hair out recently?" the bouncer asked, looking up at him. Michael peeked at his own ID, realizing that his picture was when he had short, cropped hair and a clean shaven face. He hated the way he looked in that photo, but at least it was better than his police photos back in the day. "Yeah? Why?" The bouncer studied the older man's face for another minute more before looking down at his ID again, taking a device from his pocket and scanning Michael's card. A blue light emitted from it, flashing a moment before becoming stationary. "Michael De Santa," the bouncer read his name aloud on the identification card. "As in the movie producer? The one from Richards Majestic?" "Assistant Producer," Michael corrected, in a tired voice. He usually never corrected anybody when it came to his job description, but for some reason, he felt the need to correct. Perhaps this was an effect from discovering his wife with Jonas? He was feeling pretty inferior with his own job, now, seeing as he was only an assistant. He ran his hand over his eyes, pinching them as he let out a sigh as he tried to put that thought out of his mind. "Look pal. I'm havin' a really shitty night, okay? I came here hopin' no one would recognize me, so I can drink in peace. I just... I just wanna forget tonight." The bouncer didn't say anything, simply returning Michael's ID card back to him before welcoming him to the nightclub. "Welcome to Maisonette Los Santos. Drink responsibly, and... try to stay outta trouble,mister." Michael walked past the bouncer, opening the door to the nightclub as he put his wallet back into his suit pocket. Once he began to descend the first set of stairs, he scoffed to himself, shaking his head. "Sure. I'll drink 'responsibly.' I'm gonna get responsibly hammered."

Upon entering the secondary door down the second flight of stairs, the music became even more amplified than before. The beat was more techno this time around, and the youthful crowd further into the club was dancing like mad. Their bodies swayed and bounced, jumped and spun around. The heat that resonated off their bodies made the atmosphere almost unbearable, but nobody seemed to care. They were here for the music and to have a good time. A affair that Michael was in no mood for at all. The first bar he happened across was very small and was packed with people. It was the closest to the only exit in this palace, so of course more people would be crowded here. He couldn't get himself a drink even if he wanted to. There were more than enough bodies blocking his way in doing so. This couldn't be the only bar in this place, however. Michael knew that. With a sigh, he begrudgingly entered into the club further, where the large dancing crowd resided. The DJ on the stage ahead was smiling and nodding along with the music, cranking up another loud bass with the turn of a nob. The crowd seemed to love it, as their cheers were even louder than before. Michael shook his head, wincing as a neon light glared into his eyes. '_What a cesspool_,' he thought to himself, looking around to find another bar. He recognized the couple that had entered before him, dancing happily close to where Michael was standing. Surely they must know where the other bar is, right? It looks like they've been here enough times. "Hey," Michael called over to the dancing couple, to which the man turned to face him. He wore a white hoodie, which made the neon lights that were flickering bounce off his jacket even more. Michael tried to ignore the glare, and proceeded on. "Know where a guy can get a drink around here?" The man motioned his head behind him, still dancing away. "Up the stairs there, bro! Gnarly tonight, ain't it?" His eyes focused on the stairs just behind the dancing couple. Finally, he will get that drink he so desperately wants. He moved towards it and began his ascend up the U-shaped staircase, which was just as crowded, but not by much. He saw a pair of girls dancing with bottles in their hands, one taking a huge gulp as she swayed her hips to the music. He observed his surroundings, noting the people nearby overlooking the railing to the dance floor below, and then at last, the bar itself. There were barely any people hanging out by the bar, save for a woman and a man, who was beginning to walk away with a drink in hand. '_Looks quiet enough, I guess_.'

He approached the bar, where the bartenders consisted of a woman and a man. The female bartender noticed his approach, her hand moving to grab a glass for her new customer. "What can I get you, hon?" she asked. as friendly as her smile. Michael immediately sat down on the bar stool, his bruised hand on the counter as he bitterly responds. "Whiskey. And keep it comin'." He slapped money down on the bar top, looking away from her and the crowd. The female bartender took it hesitantly, and proceeded to pouring him a glass of whiskey. Michael took it and downed the glass in one gulp, slamming it back down. The bartender seemed stunned for a moment, slowly pouring him another glass. This continued on for another five minutes before Michael noticed the couple from before, now standing by the railing and laughing, before kissing each other and snuggling up together. The sight made his blood boil, as it brought back memories of Jonas and Amanda to his mind. Michael had his back turned to the young, hyperactive crowd that danced wildly to the music, his cheek pressed against his fist as he took another sip of his whiskey. Tonight has become one of the worse nights he had ever experienced in almost a full year. He already hated everything about it. The fact that Amanda was cheating on him again, after both swore that they would do better by one another, and not retort back to their old ways, felt like a knife had been lodged into his back. There were so many times Michael resisted the urge to pick up other women when he made this promise, and despite how powerful these urges became, he forced himself to think of what was more important: his wife, who he wanted to stay loyal to. Now a part of him regretted not following up on those urges. All this time, his happiness was a fabrication, his marriage just as fake as the plastic smiles that filled the streets of Los Santos. Would he have been happier in the arms of another woman? Michael shook his head, swallowing another gulp of his whiskey. These thoughts were just as bad as discovering Amanda sleeping with the gardener. He refused to stoop to her level and do what she had done tonight. She had been sneaking around him for the last two months or whenever, sleeping with this gardener when he was out of the house. He didn't understand. Everything he did, he did for her, to make her happy. Did Amanda believe he didn't care enough? Or did she feel smothered by his affection? Either way, the one word he hated to hear was the word she called him: _boring_. As the bartender refilled his whiskey again, he turned in his seat to immediately gulp it all down once more, slamming the shot glass down on the bar top; "Another." He was desperate to get drunk tonight, if it was the last thing he did. He wanted to drink this night away and forget everything that had happened. He didn't want any recollection of this night, nor did he want to even think about it anymore at this point. He simply wanted to forget it all, to put it off as some horrible nightmare. Only then would this night get a little bit better.

When the bartender filled his glass, a new customer had flopped down on a bar stool a little ways from him, sighing heavily as their head fell into their hand. It had caught Michael's attention, his eyes peering up as his glass raised once more to take another drink. That was when he stopped, the glass just mere inches from his lips. The new customer was a young woman, her auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail with little bangs draping in front of her eyes. The little black dress she wore was not entirely revealing, but definitely showed a lot of her skin, from her shoulders and arms down to the skirt, which was quite short enough to reveal her long, elegant legs. She had a tattoo on her left forearm, as well, but with this distance and lighting, it was hard to tell what kind of tattoo it was. Another sigh had left the woman, her expression obscured by her hand, but the energy obviously felt. She seemed to be having just as bad a night as he was. He watched her for some time, seeing this woman sit here so disheartened about something. He almost wanted to go over and ask her what was wrong. It would be nice to talk to someone who was having an equally bad night as he was. The female bartender that had served him all night approached the woman, asking her what she wanted. Michael took a sip of his whiskey, listening in as the woman seemed to be looking at the menu to decide. "Do you know how to make blue lagoons?" he heard the woman ask, her head tilting a bit as she looked back at the bartender. It was a bit hard to hear her over the loud speakers that blared the music up here, but he focused the best he could, trying to read the woman's lips as best he can. He was intrigued by her choice, as blue lagoons were not a drink he heard people in Los Santos order often. Was she from out of town? "Is that what you want, sweetie?" the bartender asked, grabbing a glass and cleaning it. The woman looked as if she was about to respond, but an obnoxious burst of laughter stopped her dead in her tracks. Michael snapped his head in the direction of the laughter, noticing a group of women clambering towards the woman that sat alone at the bar. They were loud, their voices shrilling as they talked about one of the male dancers down on the dance floor. The woman had dropped her head in her hand again, cuing Michael that the reason her night was terrible was because of these women. Was she forced to join in on their escapade tonight? They called over the male bartender, ordering a different round of drinks for their group. The woman seemed to object, but the other women overshadowed her, practically ignoring her words.

Michael could feel his teeth grit in the back of his jaw. Why even invite this woman on an outing if they were not going to listen to her? She obviously didn't want the drink that they were ordering, but here they were, ordering and ignoring their friend's objection. What kind of friends were these women to her anyway? The male bartender brought the group of ladies fresh fruit cocktails, one of them stuffing some money into his breast pocket with a wink. She must've been the de facto leader of this group of women. The young woman had a half-heartened smile on her lips, her face then contorting to one of displeasure upon drinking the cocktail. Michael felt bad for this woman. Here she was, forced to be out on the town with a group of women who didn't seem to care much for how she felt or what she wanted. "Hey barkeep," he waved over the female bartender, who approached with the bottle of whiskey he was drinking. He shook his head and waved the bottle away, pointing to the woman. "See that girl over there, black dress, red hair?" The bartender peered over her shoulder at the group of women. "Yeah." Michael couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he felt that if his night was going to be terrible, then he was going to try and make someone else's night better than his. "Could you whip her up a blue lagoon, on me?" He pulled out his wallet and paid for the drink, which the bartender took. "Sure." She grabbed a glass under the bar top in front of him, grabbing the necessary ingredients to prepare the blue lagoon. Michael tilted his head as he tried to get a better look at the woman. He thought about what he was doing, about paying this random stranger a drink that they seemed to have wanted before being denied. Was it the right thing to do? He wasn't trying to do anything funny by doing this. He was simply trying to be nice. Right? "Oh and uh..." He caught the attention of the female bartender again, who was nearly done with making the blue lagoon. Michael didn't realize what he was doing when he pulled out that one hundred dollar bill from his wallet, slipping it to the bartender secretly. Maybe a part of him did, and he just didn't care. Either way, he did realize one thing: he really wanted that young woman to know it was him. "Would you let her know it's from me? The drink?" The woman looked down at his hand, which lifted to reveal the one hundred dollar bill he slid in her direction. A coy smile formed on the woman's lips, who took the bill and slid it into her pocket. "You got it, hon," she replied with a hint of flirtation in her voice, finishing up the drink and taking it over to the woman in the little black dress.  
Michael had to admit, his heart was pounding rapidly in his chest. He just paid some random woman a drink, and she doesn't even know it. What was he thinking? There was no way she was going to accept it. He was just some random old fart who just paid a pretty young girl a drink. Michael huffed a heavy breath, trying to shake the trepidation he could sense in his chest as he watch the female bartender approach the woman. She placed the blue lagoon in front of her, her whole body perking up as she saw the glass. Was she surprised? She seemed to be. The women around her were asking if she ordered before they got there, to which the woman shook her head. He leaned in closer to try even harder to listen to the sound of her voice this time. Why he wanted to know exactly what she sounded like, he didn't know. But Michael was determined, and did his best to listen to only the sound of her voice. "Excuse me. There must be a mistake. I didn't order this," she called the barkeeper, gently tapping the blue lagoon. It was hard to hear her in this club, but from what he could hear, she had a very lovely voice. Sounded mature, sweet, elegant. Could a woman really sound like that all at once? The female bartender seemed to give the woman a grin as she began to wipe a glass in her hand. "Compliments from the gentleman in the blue suit," she replied, gesturing in Michael's direction. The tightness in his chest returned, realizing that the bartender kept her word and told the woman who bought the drink. This was it, he would think to himself. It was time to really get a good look at this woman he saw across the bar, and see exactly why he seemed so compelled to go so far as to order this woman a drink. If it made her night better, then he knew he did his job. If she still refused the drink, he wouldn't blame the woman. He was just some random old man in a bar, after all.

Just then, as the woman turned to look in his direction, Michael could feel his heart lodge fast in his throat as he almost choked on his whiskey. She had the most dazzling eyes he had ever seen on a woman, and the prettiest little smile which happened to form on her lips. There was no way a woman like this could exist, and yet, here she was. Michael chuckled softly, raising his glass to her as he flashed a smile in her direction. She seemed to smile even wider in return, bashfully looking away before allowing her eyes to flutter back up to look at him, flirtatiously biting the corner of her lip. She was the most drop dead gorgeous woman in the whole club. He couldn't believe his hand was shaking a little as he took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes still glued to her as if she had cast a spell on him. What was happening to him? Just watching her from over here, seeing that elegant finger swirl around the rim of her glass. Michael couldn't stop the hitch in his throat at the mere sight of her, the action so simple and yet so alluring. How did she do that? Was that even possible for a woman to cause a man to lose himself from something as simple as this? He realized then that there was no way he was going to let this woman get away, not until he — Michael De Santa — could find some way to get close enough to her and finally say hello. He felt his body reacting before his mind could, knowing that soon enough, he was going to go up to her and find out exactly who this woman was.


End file.
